Before (The Fireman Story)
by tealpaperclip27
Summary: After Mary died, Dean stopped talking. This story follows the tale of what happened in the years before Dean showed up at Sam's apartment in Season one. Told in third person through Dean's point of view. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

Dean stopped talking after the fire. He'd taken to hiding behind his father when people would ask him how he was doing; leaving John to say that he'd be fine kids are resilient. He'd started to point at things when he wanted them: juice, a toy that was too high up to reach, Sam on occasion. John understood to some degree, Dean was only four; he didn't have to words to talk about what he'd seen. So he just stopped talking. But John missed his adventurous little boy, who made up stories and wore a Batman cape around the yard. He missed the laughter, the energy that Dean use to bring. All the silence was just one more thing that kept the little pre-furnished apartment on the outskirts of Lawrence from becoming a real home.

It was nearing the end of January, Dean's fifth birthday, almost three months since they'd lost Mary. Santa had tried to be nice to the Winchester boys that year, doing his best to replace what they'd lost in the fire, but for his birthday John wanted to make sure Dean got something very special.

"Listen Buddy," John smiled, crouched down next to the cart in the toy aisle of Kmart. "You can pick out anything you want. And I'll get it for you, for your birthday. Sound good?"

Dean never looked up from the floor as his father talked to him, white knuckling the side of the cart holding his brother, but he nodded.

"I'll be right here," John said. "You can go find a toy, Dean. I can see you. It's alright."

Dean looked up at his dad, who motioned down the aisle that it was okay. Dean very slowly walked down the aisle, every couple steps turning to make sure that his dad and Sam were still behind him. He stopped in front of a small display of fire trucks and pointed, eyes shifting to the floor again.

"You want a fire truck?" John asked. Dean pointed again and looked up sideways at his dad for a fraction a second before refocusing on the floor. "Okay, we'll get you a fire truck. You want anything else?"

Dean scanned the wall of before locking his eyes on a little firemen costume above the display of trucks: a black rain coat with safety yellow stripes and a red plastic helmet. He reached up to grab it, and then turned to his father when he couldn't reach.

"You wanna be a fireman, Dean?" John asked as he picked up the costume and placed it in the cart with Sam, who was sleeping in his car seat in the large of the cart. John could have sworn he saw Dean smile as he jumped onto the back of the cart and he pushed them toward the checkout line.

As soon as they got home, John took the truck out of the package, and handed it to Dean. It took seconds after getting his truck and little outfit for him to disappear into the room he shared with his brother and slam the door shut. John smiled as he heard the sounds of the engine coming from inside the room. Maybe this was the start of something good for his little boy. Maybe this would fix him.

* * *

Before they lost Mary, Dean was just starting to get used to the idea that Sam was a permanent part of the family. Dean spent a good chunk of Sam's first four months of existence complaining that he didn't do anything and smelled weird and occasionally poking his leg.

"Jamie 'cross the street's brother plays cars with us," he'd complained on many occasions since his parents brought home what appeared to be a bundle of blue blankets. "Why couldn't I get a cool brother like Jamie's?" Sam would lie on his belly and laugh at his own reflection in a little mirror on him play set. "Sam's boring."

Now at nearly nine months, Sam was becoming a bit of a handful. He was crawling, getting into almost everything, and started to mumble pieces of his words, mostly baby nonsense, but in a house as quiet as theirs was now a days, anything was welcome.

Sam whined in John's arms until he placed him down on the linoleum. He watched Sam scramble crawl to the living room and a plush cow toy John had found a yard sale and Sam had fallen in love with.

"De!" Sam mumbled pushing at the door to his bedroom. "Deeeee!"

"Not right now Sammy," John said scooping him up and carrying him to the couch. "We gotta leave Dean alone for a little bit."

Sam point toward the closed door over the back of the sofa, "De."

"After dinner, Sammy," John said. "You want some Cheerios? How about a make you some Cheerios and apple sauce?" Sam clapped and made his little stuffed cow run up John's arm.

* * *

In his room, Dean put on his new jacket and climbed under his bed looking for a pair of yellow rain boots he gotten from Santa after his cool frog ones burned up in the fire. He pushed a chair that went with his desk across the room to the mirror over the dresser and climbed up. He placed the helmet on his head and smiled. A real fireman. He touched the frame of the picture Dad had put there of his mom with Dean in her lap, holding little Sam a few days after he was born.

"I'm ready now," Dean whispered voice hoarse from disuse. "I can save you now, like a good boy. I'm ready Mommy."

"Dean!" John called from the kitchen. "It's dinner time."

Dean climbed down, scooped up his fire truck and headed for the kitchen. "Dee!" Sam squealed excitedly.

John turned around carrying a pot of macaroni and cheese. "You like your fireman stuff, Buddy?" John smiled, filling the bowl in front of Dean with Macaroni with hot dogs. Dean looked over to Sam who had applesauce and cheerios all over his face and high chair.

John watched his boys in silence, saddened by the lack of laughter. Words couldn't describe how much of a hole in his heart to watch Dean's refusal to speak, how much it ached to see his boys growing up without their mom to watch with him.

"Hey, Dean," John said taking his seat next to Dean. "I was thinkin'. How would you like to go to your friend Jamie's house tomorrow while I go to work?"

Dean shook his head violently back and forth. He never wanted to go back to Jamie's house. It was too close to where he lost him mom.

"I think it would be good for you and Sammy to go over there for a little while," John said. "I told Jamie's mom I would take you."

Dean's eyes widened as he shook his head no as fast as he could. Dad didn't understand, but there was no way that Dean was going back to Jamie's house, and he couldn't make him. Dad was just going to have to get Miss Amy from downstairs to watch them like usual. Dean wasn't a big fan of change, and too much had changed for him already. He didn't need a disruption in his routine again.

After dinner John gave the boys a bath. Dean tried to take his fire truck with him, but John was afraid it would get ruined in the water and placed it on the side of the sink behind them.

"Why don't you want to go to Jamie's, Dean? He's your best friend, remember?"

Dean stilled in the water and turned to face the wall.

"Talk to me Buddy," John pleaded. "Please, I know you can. I've heard you talk before. Come on Dean-o, just let me in. Tell me what's going in that head of yours, please."

Dean twisted away as John tried to grab his arm and took the extra-large McDonald's cup John used to get soap off of Sam off the side of the tub and got the shampoo out of his hair before climbing out of the tub. He grabbed a towel from the rack wrapping himself up as he walked hurriedly through the living room. About halfway to his room, he turned on his heels and came back into the bathroom, pushing past his dad to the sink to get his truck.

"Dean," John said, trying to keep his voice even. Dean shook his head as John grabbed his arm. "Enough is enough Dean. You gotta start talking. Time to be a big boy."

Dean pulled his arm away and padded quickly to his room, slamming the door to his bedroom.

"Dee!" Sam squealed as he made his toy boat attack soap bubble mountain.

"I don't know Sammy," John sighed. "I don't know how to fix him."

Sam splashed happily, like nothing was wrong at all, too little to know what everything was wrong.

John read Sam a story on the sofa until he fell asleep; then brought him into the room the baby shared with Dean. After placing him down in his crib, John looked over the older boy. He lay on his back sleeping, wearing his Batman pajamas and fireman coat; new truck tucked under his arm, the hat perched on the headboard, boots neatly at the end of the bed, as if Dean was preparing for a fire call in the middle of the night.

Before leaving the room, his kissed his boys on the head, and whispered into Dean's hair: "It'll be okay buddy. I miss her too, but you can't just shut down. You gotta tell me what's wrong so I can make it better."

* * *

Dean pressed against the fridge, refusing to move. He wasn't going to Jamie's and there was nothing anyone was going to tell him that would change his mind.

"Damn it, Dean!" John yelled, using a voice he never dreamed he'd ever use with his boys. "I'm going to be late for work, let's go." He held Sam in his carrier in one hand the keys to the Impala in the other. "I'm not playing games anymore, open you're fucking mouth and tell me what's wrong or get your ass down stairs and into the car. NOW!"

Dean's mouth fell open, like _maybe_ just maybe he'd says something before he started crying and ran out the door. John sighed, adjusting Sam's carrier so he could grab the fire truck off the floor when Dean had thrown it before gluing himself to the fridge. He walked out the door, seeing Dean at the top of the stairs, since we wasn't allowed to go down by himself.

"You want this?" John asked, holding the truck out to the boy. Dean rubbed his face against the bannister as he reached out for it. "Can I get a please?"

Dean shook his head and reached until John sighed and handed it to him; then took Dean's hand and went down the three flights to the parking lot. John let Dean into the backseat, strapping him in before strapping Sam into the other side and getting in himself.

"I don't understand Dean," John said watching his boys in the rearview as they drove across town. "Jamie and Brandon are your best friends. Why don't you want to see them?"

If Dean heard him, the boy didn't acknowledge it, just stared out the window watching trees though the window.

"Thank you so much, Joyce, for taking them," John said hurriedly, handing her Sam in his carrier. "I'll be back around five."

Dean stood behind John, gripping his back pocket with one hand, fire truck in the other, as if he was too afraid to let go.

"Come on," John sighed. "We talked about this, you know Joyce and the boys you'll be fine."

"It's alright Dean," Joyce said, bending down to his level. "You remember me right? We have fun at my house. You remember that?"

Dean nodded slowly. Joyce extended her hand to Dean who reluctantly took it, staring up at his Dad while she led him toward the door.

"It'll be okay, Buddy," John waved. "I'll be back before you know it."

After Joyce brought the boys inside, she brought Sam into the living room to let him out. Dean pressed his face to the window next to the door, trying to see his dad as he drove away. Joyce found him a few minutes later. She picked him up and carried him into the kitchen where she was making cinnamon rolls for breakfast.

* * *

There was a time, not too long before, when Dean and the two little boys across the street, Jamie and Brandon, were thick as thieves. One can only imagine that if life had dealt the Winchester's a different hand, what chaos those boys would have caused when they started school, or what kind of heart breakers they would be in their teens, but the world didn't seem to work that way. In the two years Dean had been playing with the boys across the street, they'd spent a good amount of time terrorizing the little girl that lived next to Jamie, stealing her dolls and burying them in the sandbox in Dean's backyard.

But now, Dean planted himself under their mother's dining room table, dressed as a fireman, rolling a little truck back and forth, hoping no one would see him. It didn't however take very long for the King boys to find him.

"Hey Dean!" Jamie said, sliding under the table. "My dad set up a pretty awesome hot wheels track in my room, wanna see?"

Dean shook his head and kept playing with his truck, willing them to go away.

"Come on!" Brandon encouraged. "It's really cool, cooler than on TV."

Dean ignored them and played with his truck.

"Dean," Jamie whined trying to grab Dean's arm. "Don't be a stick in the mud, come play."

Dean shifted away, pushing himself against the wall.

"Can I see your truck?" Brandon asked, making grabby hands. Dean clenched it close to his chest. He shook his head and started to hyperventilate, warm tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

"Why are you being such a baby?" Jamie asked arms crossed against his chest.

"Yeah, stop being a big baby!" Brandon echoed.

"What's going on boys?" Joyce asked.

"Why is Dean a baby now?" Jamie asked angrily.

"Yeah," Brandon added. Jamie shoved him sideways.

"He won't play with us and now he's crying cuz we want to see his truck."

Dean pulled his knees to his chest, silent tears rolling down his face. This was too much. He wanted to be back in his room, alone, while Miss Amy played with Sam and didn't bother him until lunch time when she brought him a jelly sandwich with the crust cut off. He didn't like it here anymore.

"How about you and your brother go get some breakfast, it's sitting on the counter in. I'll talk to Dean," Joyce suggested then waited for her boys to disappear. "Can I join you under there?"

Dean looked up at her through his lashes. She reminded him of his mom. She didn't look like her, she was older with grey streaking her dark hair, and soft eyes, but she spoke like his mom did. She was nice and sweet, and right now that's was exactly what Dean needed.

"That's a really cool truck," Joyce said when she'd managed to get herself under the table with him. "Your dad said you got it for your birthday?"

Dean nodded and pushed the truck across to her. Joyce smile and pushed the truck back, then wiped the tears away with her thumb.

"Jamie and Brandon just miss you," Joyce continued. "They miss their friend being around. They're excited to see you. But you don't wanna play do you?"

Dean shook his head, rolling his truck back and forth.

"Because you wanna be by yourself?"

Dean nodded.

"Okay," Joyce smiled. "But how about you come out from under the table and come hang out with Sammy and me in the living room? That way you can watch out for your brother and I can see you."

Dean smirked and nodded; then climbed out from under the table. Joyce followed closely after. Dean planted himself in the arm chair in the living room while Sam rolled across the floor back and forth, laughing like it was most fun he'd ever had in his life.

"Dee'n!" he pointed when he noticed Dean was in the room, and then continued to roll back and forth.

Dad had told Dean that it was him job to watch out for Sam when he couldn't all the time, like when he was in the shower, or taking a nap on the couch after work. Dean took this job very, very seriously. John had come into the living room on one than more occasions to see Dean sitting across from Sam just staring at him.

Now, Dean was watching Sam as Jamie and Brandon played Legos on the coffee table while Joyce watched Daytime Soaps. One of the Legos had fallen onto the floor in Sam's path, so Sam grabbed it with his pudgy little baby hands and tried to eat it. Dad was very clear to Dean about keeping his toys off the floor. "Sam's little and thinks everything is food," John had explained. Dean was very careful about making sure that Sam never ate any of his toys.

Dean's eyes widened as he watched his brother start to choke on the little piece. He pointed, and kicked at the seat, looking from Joyce to Sam, but was unable to get her attention. Sam's lips started to turn blue, so Dean drove his truck off the arm of the chair across the room so it crashed loudly on the floor. When Joyce looked up, he pointed frantically at Sam.

"Oh My God!" Joyce gasped grabbing Sam and sticking a finger in his throat and pulling out the little block, Sam started to cough as the color returned to his face. "You boys have to be more careful." She turned to her boys and placed the saliva covered piece on the coffee table. "Sam's just a baby; he puts everything in his mouth."

Dean slid off the chair and retrieved his truck from across the room then sat down next to Sam.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Joyce asked. "Did you throw your truck so I would see Sammy?"

Dean showed no sign that he'd even heard the question. Just drove his truck around in circles.

"You coulda just said something, Buddy," Joyce said, running a hand down the side of his face, but Dean pulled away like she electrocuted him. "Would have gotten my attention sooner."

Dean chewed on the inside of his lip. Dad must have told Joyce to try to get him to talk, but Dean was too smart for that. He wasn't ready to talk yet. He wasn't afraid to speak or forgotten how. He just wasn't ready, didn't know what to say.

When John came to get them, Dean ran up to him at full speed nearly knocking him backward as his full weight pressed into John's legs.

"Easy tiger," John laughed. "Fun day?"

Dean shook his head no and pressed his face into his father's leg.

"Seeming uneventful," Joyce sighed, strapping a now sleeping Sam into his carrier. "Sam had an incident with a Lego, but nothing I couldn't handle."

John took Sam from her and opened the front door. Dean ran out to the car, standing next to it and driving his fire truck along the passenger's side. He stared down the street, back toward where he used to live, the last place he saw his mom.

"He'll be okay, John," Joyce said. "He's engaged in his surroundings he just doesn't talk. He just needs time."

"I hope so," John smiled. "Thank you, so much for this."

"Anything you need, you call me," Joyce said waving from the doorway as John walked down the walk way to the car.

Dean stood at the back bumper trying to look down the road to his old house. "In the car kiddo," John said after strapping Sam in. Dean sat with is truck on his lap poking Sam in the leg repeatedly as they drove.

"Whaddya want for dinner?" John asked the rear image in his rear view.

Dean said nothing, just continued to poke.

"Don't poke your brother. What do you want to eat? Pizza? Burgers? You chose." Dean said nothing just stared blankly forward, clutching his fire truck to his lap.

* * *

Around Valentine's Day, Dean was playing with his green army men while Sammy napped. John watched in the doorway as Dean set-up an epic battle, then proceed to run over one side with his fire truck. John couldn't help thinking that this battle would be so much better with sound.

By now he knew the truth about what was out there, he had done enough research to realize he couldn't just sit by and let evil take moms away from other little boys. He knew he'd be packing up the boys soon, and hitting the road. He had to. He couldn't just sit around and let that kind of bad happen. He was mostly thinking about whether he should take off now, or wait until the lease was up in May.

"I'm gonna make some chicken fingers for lunch is that okay?" John said. Dean looked, fire helmet in his eyes, and nodded.

Mary was always the one that cooked. John didn't have skills beyond boiling water and pressing buttons on the microwave. Setting up chicken fingers and fries on a cookie sheet was about the extent of his culinary prowess. Luckily, his boys were still small enough to enjoy large amounts of macaroni and cheese and pizza with a healthy amount of cereal to balance it out.

John knew he had about a half hour before everything would be ready, so after putting the food in the oven he went to the living room and turned on the TV.

Dean had only heard that squeal on other time in his life, the night his mom got taken away. At first, he froze truck in midair about to ram more army men. He wasn't sure if he should wait for his dad or not, but on second thought, he figured it was best to take action.

In the bottom drawer of his dresser he kept a screw driver he stole from his dad's tool box. He used it to unlatch Sam's crib and let the front fall so he could scoop up the boy and get out. Sam, it appeared, could sleep through anything. He seemed undisturbed as Dean ran as fast as he could with the extra weight to the door. This place wasn't safe anymore. Sammy's little blue blanket tangled in Dean's feet as he scurried to the door of the apartment.

John was waving a dish towel at the smoke detector, the charred remains of what used to be lunch sitting on the stove. Dean wasn't quite tall enough to turn the door knob while holding Sam; so John got a glimpse of Dean placing his brother on the floor, standing on his tip toes to turn the door knob, and then drag Sam into the hallway by the blanket.

John finally got the smoke to dissipate enough to stop the alarm. Then he stepped outside the apartment to see Dean standing at the staircase holding Sam, waiting for their Dad to join him so he could go down the stairs.

"Whatcha doing?" John asked, chuckling to himself. "You running away?"

Dean shook his head and mumbled something against Sammy's blanket.

"What?" John said. "Whatcha say?"

"Save Sam?" Dean mumbled.

"Save Sam from what?" John said as he realized what happened his heart sank and rose to his throat simultaneously. "From the smoke alarm? The smoke alarm scared you?"

"Save Sam," Dean nodded his voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "I don't want it to take Sammy too."

"Oh, Buddy," John said taking Sam from Dean's arms. "Nothing's going to take Sammy. I just burnt dinner. It was an accident. Okay? Come back inside. I'll show you."

John took Dean's hand and led him back into the apartment. He felt the boy tense up as they cross the threshold to the apartment, clearly terrified that something was there to get him. "See, everything's find. No fire."

"No monsters?" Dean whispered. "No monsters like that took Mommy?"

"No monsters," John confirmed.

"So I's saved him?" Dean said looking up at his Dad. "Saved Sammy from the monsters?"

"You did good Dean," John smiled.

Dean nodded, helmet sliding down his face a little. "I'm hungry."

John chuckled. "Let me put Sammy back down and I'll work on that for you. Okay?"

Dean nodded and let go of John's hand. He headed back into his room to play with his army men.

John laid Sam on the couch and sat next to him, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He let out a deep sigh. He'd never even thought about what that smoke alarm would do to Dean. How much it would scare him. He should have known. He should have been more careful.

That night, after pizza, he packed his boys up and hit the road.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Dean started talking, he pretty much never stopped. He'd sit on the floor with Sam rolling a ball back and forth talking baby babble. But he won't stop wearing his fire fighter helmet. Nor would he allow Sam to play with or come close to touching his truck, but he _was_ getting better. It turned out the leaving Lawrence was one of the best decisions that he'd made. Dean liked seeing the country from the backseat of the Impala. For him every day became a new adventure in a new town. John was making contacts and allies, finding people he trusted with boys.

They were staying in a motel in Georgia the June after Sam turned two, John was sitting at the desk writing in his journal, Sam was jumping on the bed he shared with Dean and complaining that he couldn't go outside, and Dean was playing with army men in front of the television while half watching Spiderman cartoons.

"Sam how about you come here and play," Dean said leaning back to watch Sam jump. The never ending squeaking of the bed springs was starting to annoy him.

"Outside!" Sam whined and kept jumping. "No play inside, play outside."

"It's raining," Dean coaxed. "You'll get all wet."

"Outside!" Sam whined louder.

"Boys," John groaned. "Stop, just behave for five more minutes please."

"Then outside?" Sam asked.

"No," John said simply. "Not right now."

"But I wanna play outside," Sam yelled. "I can puddles. Inside is boring. Deans always hogs all the army mans."

"If you didn't get them stuck in the ash tray of the car," Dean answered. "Maybe I would let you play with them."

"I was gunnin' the man in the front seat," Sam said as he stopped jumping momentarily. "I didn't mean to breaked it."

"Well, ya did," Dean spat back.

"Boys," John breathed. "Calm down and behave for a half an hour and then we'll get some lunch. And if you're really good, maybe we'll get ice cream. How's that sound?"

"With sprinkles?" Sam asked. "The rainbow ones?"

"Only if you're quiet and on good behavior until I'm done with this, okay?"

Sam nodded and started to jump again. Dean started to tell him to stop, but decided it was for the best to just let Sam do what he wanted, it's not like he listened anyway, and turned back to the television.

The show had cut for commercials and Dean half watched as he made the army men drive his fire truck through a line of other army men, until he saw the car, the fire shooting off the back wheels as it disappeared. His eyes widened.

"Dad," He said, turning toward the table. "We _have_ to go see that movie."

"Deans," Sam whined. "Now we get no ice cream!"

"What movie, Dean," John sighed looking up from his journal.

"The Time Machine," Dean nodded. "There is a movie about Time Machines. I need to see it. It's the most important thing in the world, ever."

"I'll think about it," John answered. "Now please just be quiet. Watch cartoons, play with your army men, get your brother to **stop jumping on the squeaky bed**."

Sam stopped and flopped down so he was sitting and looked between his dad and Dean.

"Can we still has ice cream?" He asked softly.

"I said maybe," John answered.

"Come over here, Sammy," Dean said. Sam jumped off the bed and waddled over, pressing himself into Dean's side. "You wanna play with the army men?"

"I play truck," Sam said reaching for Dean's fire truck.

"No," Dean laughed. "You play army men."

Sam shrugged and lined up the army men. "You is a toy hog."

Dean pressed his finger to Sam's lips to shush him and cocked his head toward their dad.

* * *

All Dean talked about for the next week was the movie preview he saw. He knew it didn't open for another week, but he wanted to make sure his dad didn't forget about it as they moved from Georgia to Ohio and then across the Midwest.

"Dad," Dean sighed with his face against the window. "After we go to the fireworks on the Fourth of July can we go see the movie?"

"I can only say 'maybe' so many times before I change my mind and start saying 'no'," John replied. "So stop asking."

"But I need to see it," Dean pleaded. "I need to. It's important."

"I said I'd think about it," John answered. "If I'm not on a job, I'll try to find some time to take you to the movies,_ if_ I can find someone to watch Sam for a couple hours. Is that a good enough answer?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean nodded face still against the window.

* * *

The guy John was doing a job for the first week of July had two bedroom beach house in Michigan on the shore of Lake Superior that he was more than happy to let John and his boys stay in while he got rid of the pest problem. He also had a sixteen year old daughter, Kimberly, who took and instant like to Sam, and constantly volunteered to baby sit. It seemed like the stars were aligning in Dean's world.

Kimberly ended up taking the boys to see the big Fourth of July fireworks display over the river while their Dad salt and burned something. Dean didn't know a lot of what his dad did for a living, but he knew enough to not ask too many question about why there were a whole bunch of guns in the trunk and to make sure Sam never found out.

Sam did not like the fireworks.

"This is too scary," Sam yelled pressing his face into Dean's back while they sat on a beach blanket, Kimberly laughed.

"It's not that bad," she smiled. "Look at the pretty colors."

"I will not," Sam said, voice muffled by Dean's shirt. "I want to go home now please."

"It's almost over," Dean said. "Stop being a baby and watch the fireworks."

Dean felt Sam's nose rub back and forth across his spine.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged, he leaned forward since he really didn't have choice as Sam leaned on him. "You're missing a good show."

"Too loud," Sam yelled into Dean's back. "Don't like it."

* * *

The next morning Dean sat on the sofa waiting for his dad to wake up to ask again if he would take him to the movies. He'd never seen a movie in the theater before; only on TV or sometimes when whoever was watching them had a VCR and put a tape in to keep the boys occupied for a couple hours while they made lunch or something. This was a big deal, to him at least.

When John finally stumbled into the kitchen around noon, Dean pounced.

"Daddy?" he said leaning on the counter while John tried to make himself some coffee. "Remember when you telled me that if there was someone who could babysit Sam and you wasn't working that after the fireworks you'd take me to see the time machine movie?"

"You remind me every day," John sighed. "How could I forget?"

"Well," Dean said. "Kimberly really likes Sam, and you sayed you finished your work last night. So…"

"Yeah," John nodded. "I'll take you to the movies, this afternoon, after I get some coffee in me."

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded excitedly. "I'll go get ready." Dean ran off to the room he was sharing with Sam. He was still in his pajamas but he really had no one to tell him to change, so why bother. His brother was sitting on his bed holding the book that Dean read to him before bed time upside down staring intently at it.

"What are you doing, Sammy?" Dean asked digging through his duffle bag.

"I reading," Sam answered. "I like this book has dragons."

"Oh, okay," Dean nodded as he started to change. "You know the book is upside down right?"

Sam shook his head. "I like it this way, it's better."

"Alright," Dean chuckled. "Have fun with that."

"I's hungry," Sam announced. "Is Daddy awake yet?"

"Yeah," Dean said buttoning his pants. "I'll let him know."

When Dean came out of his room, he stood at the arm of the couch and stared at John until his dad turned slowly to him.

"I'm ready," Dean said. "To do go the movies. Time Machine movie."

"Yes, Dean," John nodded. "I understand."

"Sam's hungry."

"Okay, I'll get on that," John said. "Can you breathe for a couple minutes? The movie doesn't even play until five. You don't need to get yourself worked up."

"I'm just excited," Dean said.

"I figured."

* * *

"That was the best movie of ever," Dean said as followed in John's wake back to the Impala clutching the popcorn and licorice he'd bugged his dad into buying at the concession stand. "I wanna time machine. Can we turn your car into a time machine?"

"No," John said, unlocking the door so Dean could climb inside.

"Why not?" Dean asked when John got into the driver's seat and placed the key in the ignition. "Your car is better than Marty's car. It would be the best time machine. We can go back in time together. And you can do your job where you save people. Even people you didn't save before. We can save _everyone_."

"It's not real, Dean," John said simply. "It's just a movie. You can't actually make a time machine."

"It looked real to me," Dean nodded as they backed out of the parking lot. "Time machines seem like a really, really good idea. We could use one."

"It's a good idea," John said quietly as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I'll give you that, but you can't turn my car into a time machine. It wasn't real, just movie magic."

Dean stared out the window as they drove back to the beach house. A time machine would be the best thing he could ever have, he could fix so much. He'd be able to go back and make sure nothing bad happened to his mom. He could keep his dad from being so grumpy all the time. He'd make sure that Sammy didn't ask what a mommy was. Yeah, a time machine would be a wonderful thing.

* * *

The next morning Dean spent playing with hot wheels with Sam on the coffee table while John prepared them for another move. They were leaving this place the next day, heading to South Dakota. Dad told them he had a friend that lived there, and that he had a dog they could play with, seemed like it would be a good time. Dean never stopped thinking about how cool it would be to turn the Impala into a time machine. Nobody would ever think it was a time machine because it looked like a regular car, not like the time machine in the movie. Everyone could tell that one was a time machine without being told, the Impala though, very inconspicuous.

"Dad, can I please turn the car into a time machine?" Dean asked again for about the five hundredth time in less than a day.

"No," John repeated. "You can't."

"Why not?" Dean huffed.

"I said so," John answered.

"But I only want one thing," Dean whined. "One thing in the world."

"No," John said, more forcefully this time.

"How come Sammy gets everything he wants?" Dean asked. "And I ask for one thing ever and I can't have it?"

"Sam's two," John answered. "When you were two, you know what you wanted more than anything?"

Dean shook his head.

"A little brother," John answered. "Like your little friend Jamie across the street."

"But now I want a time machine," Dean said.

"You only get one wish," John said. "And you got Sam."

"What if Sam wants a time machine?" Dean asked looking quickly to his brother.

"I want an ice cream sundae," Sam said. "But it breakfast time, and we can't have ice cream for breakfast. Right Daddy?"

"Right Sammy," John smiled.

Dean started to get incredibly angry. It wasn't fair. Nothing was far.

"It's not fair at all!" Dean yelled. "I only want one thing. It's not a big thing. Just one time machine!"

"Don't yell at me, Dean," John said patiently.

"You're the worst Dad ever," Dean continued to yell. "If… if… if I can't have a time machine I'm gonna run away."

"Fine," John said throwing his hands up. "Run away, Dean, cuz you're not getting a time machine."

Dean's fists curled against his sides as he stood up and ran into the other room, and slammed the door with his all his might. He took everything he owned, his toys, his clothes, most importantly his fire truck, and shoved it into his duffle bag; then pulled the sheets and pillows off his bed and shoved everything underneath it. He climbed into this blankets, as close to the wall as possible. He wasn't allowed to go outside by himself, so this was close enough to running away. His dad would never find him under there. Maybe when he left tomorrow he would forget Dean. That's what he deserved being so mean like that, he didn't want much, just one thing. He never asked for anything. He just did whatever his dad said, it wasn't fair.

* * *

A few hours later John opened the bedroom door and called in. "We're going to the store, Dean. You want to come with us?"

"I ran away!" Dean yelled.

"Yeah," John sighed. "Don't leave the house, I'll let ya know when you're back."

"Fine!" Dean huffed.

He must have fallen asleep under the bed because he awoke a while later when Sam started to poke him in the back.

"I seeked you!" Sam said excitedly. "I win!"

"What do you want?" Dean said grumpily.

"I getted you somethink at the store," Sam explained, trying to fit under the bed with Dean and all his worldly possessions. He pressed a plastic bag into Dean's face.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"A present!" Sam smiled. "I getted it for you."

Dean opened the bag and pulled out a digital alarm clock. "Why did you get this?"

"It's a time machine!" Sam said proudly. "Daddy sayed he needed the one in car, so I sayed that we get one that one, and Daddy sayed 'Okay Sammy' and then we gets it. You like it?"

"Yeah, Sam," Dean turned and smiled at his brother, fluffing his hair a little. "I like it, thank you."

"It has bigger numbers than the one in Daddy's car, so you can seed it better," Sam explained. "I fink it's a good time machine."

"It's the best Sam," Dean nodded. "Thanks."

"Daddy sayed that dinner is all ready," Sam said. "He getted pizza on the way home."

"I'll be out in a minute," Dean said starting to pull himself out from under the bed.

"Okay," Sam nodded before running out of the room.

Dean took pulled his sheets out from under the bed and tossed them back on the bed along with his pillows. He held the box with the clock that Sam gave him and chuckled. Sam didn't understand what a time machine was, but he tried. He shoved it into the duffle bag with the rest of his stuff. He was going to make sure he used it at every place they slept for really long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Singer's Auto Salvage yard was a playground if Dean had ever seen one. It might not have had swings or a slide, like the playgrounds Sam liked, but it was filled with some many old cars that Dean could play with that, to him at least, it was way better. Sam was a big fan on Bobby's dog, mostly because he thought the large German Shepard was a wolf.

"We should get one of these," Sam nodded petting the dog on the front porch. "I like it."

"Where are we gonna put a dog in the car Sammy?" Dean asked.

"In the trunk," Sam said matter-o-factually.

"You can't keep a dog in the trunk of a car," Dean answered.

"There's plenty of room," Sam nodded. "I fitted in there. We's can get a little dog."

"No dogs in the car, Sam," John said crouching down next to him. "Hard enough to keep track of the two of you. Don't need a dog too."

Sam shrugged and whispered into the dog's ear something that Dean couldn't quite make out.

"Let's head inside," John suggested. "I think dinner's almost ready and Bobby's got a couple rooms set up for the two of ya."

"We don't have to share a room?" Dean asked excitedly.

John shook his head. "Not this time."

"But… but…" Sam said in a panic. "What… what… what if I can't see Deans? I need to see him to sleep. What if something gets me?"

"Nothing's gonna get you," John said, guiding both boys into the house. "You'll be fine."

"I do not thinks so," Sam said shaking his head. "This is a very bad idea. I cannot sleep without Deans."

The subject of school came up over dinner that night. Bobby believed that it was probably a good idea to enroll Dean in the school right there in Sioux Falls.

"You can still go out and do jobs," Bobby explained. "I can watch the boys while you're away."

"I can teach him all he needs to know," John said, looking between Bobby and the boys. "Why don't you two put your plates in the sink if you're done and go play in the living room for a bit?"

"Kid needs friends," Bobby told John as the boys did as they were instructed.

"I can home school him," John argued though his teeth. "I can teach him what he needs."

"Does he know anyone besides a bunch of middle aged hunters and two year old?" Bobby sighed. "Kids his own age would be good for him. There are a couple places for rent in town. I can still watch the boys while you're on hunts and ya won't be sleeping on my couch. He needs peers, John, structure. Kid hasn't known a normal day is almost two years. A bit of book learnin' never hurt anybody."

John eventually gave in, sighing into a glass of bourbon.

* * *

"Sounds dumb," Dean said when John explained school to him a week before he was start in the Winchester's new apartment above the hardware store downtown. "I don't wanna go."

"You have to go," John sighed; he knew this was going to happen.

"Can Sam come?" Dean asked. "I'll only go if Sammy can go."

"Not this time, buddy," John explained. "He's gonna stay home with me or Bobby while you're there."

"What about lunch time?" Dean asked, looking up. "What if you don't make his lunch right? If it's not right he won't eat it, then he gets cranky and starts crying and then you'll get mad at him. What if you try to give him mayonnaise on his sandwich? He's very picky."

"I can make Sammy's lunch," John said.

"What if Sammy misses me?" Dean argued. "He gets bored really easy. And if you don't watch him all the time he eats things. He's always trying to eat my Legos and army men. You have to watch him every minute. What if I can't wear my fireman helmet? What if the other kids are mean?"

"But what if the other kids are nice?" John reasoned. "You don't hafta worry about Sam. I can take care of him."

"But Sammy is _my_ job," Dean said. "I gots to take care of him. You say so all the time."

"I'm his father, Dean," John sighed, losing patience. "I can take care of Sam for a couple hours while you're at school. And when I'm working, Uncle Bobby can take care of him."

"Can I try school and if I don't like it, not go anymore?"

"We'll talk about it," John answered.

"Okay," Dean nodded. "But if Sam gets too sad I'm not staying."

John sighed. "That's not how it works."

Dean nodded. "I has to do what's best for Sam. He gets really upset if he can't see me."

"I know," John rolled his eyes. He was not about to negotiate with a six year old. "But how about you just do what I tell you to do and let me worry about Sam?"

"I still think it sounds stupid," Dean shrugged. "But I'll try it."

"Good," John said placing his hand on top of Dean's fire helmet and pushing to down his face as he stood up.

* * *

On Dean's first day of school, John was in West Virginia on a werewolf job. So Dean stood in front of Singer's Auto Salvage in a new to him Batman t-shirt from the Goodwill and black rain coat with his fireman helmet, with a book bag that looked way too big for him waiting for the bus. Sam sat against the fence with Bobby.

"Is you sellin' Dean?" Sam asked pulling grass out of the ground and throwing it into the air.

"No, Sam," Bobby chuckled. "Dean's going to school. He'll be back after nap time."

"He's going away?" Sam pouted. "Why?"

"Dad says I have to," Dean said. "But if you don't want me to go—"

"Dean," Bobby warned.

Dean sighed and chewed on the inside of his lip. The bus pulled up nosily. Dean walked forward slowly.

"You goes to school on a submarine!?" Sam yelled. "I go too Uncle Bobby!"

Dean turned at Sam's words being pulled by the heart back toward his brother.

"Come on, Dean," Bobby said. "You said you'd try."

Dean took a deep breath and stepped forward toward the bus. He made is way slowly up the stairs trying not to cry. He sat in the first seat looking out the window to Sam and Bobby who were waving. He waved back weakly as the bus drove away.

* * *

Dean's teacher was a young pudgy woman with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and glasses. He wasn't sure if he would like this Miss Sherry person, but he promised his dad and Bobby that he would try. All the other kids seemed to know what to do, but Dean just stood awkwardly in the doorway, frozen. He felt like he did when he didn't talk, terrified and alone. He missed Sam. Sam never shoved him out of the way.

"Hi," Miss Sherry said, coming over to Dean. "What's your name?"

Dean started to shake a little. This was way too over whelming. "I'm Dean," he whispered. "Dean Winchester."

"I'm Miss Sherry," his teacher replied. "Do you want to come inside?"

Dean shook his head no. "I don't like school. I think I wanna go home now. Uncle Bobby said that I could go home if I didn't like it. I wanna go back to his house."

"But you haven't even tried it yet," Miss Sherry said. "Why don't we get your coat off and we sit down for a little bit and try school out."

Miss Sherry seemed nice; maybe she wouldn't be so bad. "I'm kinda scared." Dean whispered. "My dad says not to be afraid because that's how the bad things get you. He says that I have to brave."

"He sounds smart, your dad," Miss Sherry smiled. "You like Batman right? And you want to be a fireman when you grow up? Those are brave guys Dean. I bet they could try first grade for a little bit."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I really do," Miss Sherry said extending her hand out to him. "Come on, let's go be brave."

Dean nodded and took her hand. She led him into a brightly colored room filled with tables with one empty chair. He looked up at his teacher, who nodded and he took his seat; according to the stickers he was between Matthew Wallace and Kelly Zander. Everyone was staring at him, so he looked down at the table.

* * *

Miss Sherry wanted everyone to introduce themselves and share something special about themselves as a get to know you exercise. Dean learned that Ally's mom was a vet and Jason like to skateboard; Julie was a ballerina and Patrick wanted to be a football player when he grew up. Dean knew he couldn't talk about his dad's work, Dad made him promise to never tell anyone, mostly because they would think he was crazy. John told Dean everything about ghosts and monsters and things that go bump in the night. He did this so that Dean would understand why he had to protect Sam. He also made sure that Dean understood that he couldn't ever tell anyone the truth, because if he did, someone would take them away and he wouldn't be able to protect them anymore. He didn't know how much Dean actually saw of John's hunts, but he knew the boy always saw the aftermath. How that looked to a six year old never crossed John's mind. To him Dean was never just a kid. He was a little solider in training for the war against monsters. When it was his turn he looked up at Miss Sherry and squirmed in his seat.

"I'm not special," he said quietly.

"You don't have anything to share Dean?" Miss Sherry asked. "There has to be something."

Dean shook his. "No, I'm not special." He repeated.

"There's nothing that you're _really_ good at?" Miss Sherry asked.

"Sammy says he really likes it when I tell him stories at bed time," Dean said.

"That's something," Miss Sherry smiled. "Who's Sammy?"

"My little brother," Dean answered. "He's two, so they might not be good stories, but he likes them. He really likes the ones I maked up about dragons and saving people. Sammy likes dragons. They're his most favorite."

"You make up the stories?" Miss Sherry asked. Dean nodded. "So you're a story teller. That's special, Dean."

"How come your Mommy or Daddy doesn't tell your brother stories?" Julie the ballerina asked. Dean decided he didn't like her.

"My Dad's busy," Dean said to the table. "Sammy's my job."

"What about your mom?" Julie asked.

Dean stared at his name sticker, and started to pick at the corners. He really didn't like this Julie girl. "My Mommy's in Heaven with the Angels."

"Why?" Julie asked.

"Julie that's enough," Miss Sherry said. She was unprepared for one of her little first graders to have a dead parent. It wasn't in Dean's file when she got her class list for the year. Now she had to figure out how to protect this little awkward shy boy from curious six and seven year olds.

"I tried school, Miss Sherry," Dean said. "I don't like it. Can I go home now? Please?"

"Not yet, Dean," Miss Sherry said sweetly. "In a little while."

* * *

Everybody got to go outside for recess after lunch. Dean took his fire truck and sat against the brick wall of the school. Hopefully Bobby wouldn't make him come back to school ever. He really didn't like it. He knew he wouldn't. He knew the other kids would be mean. Julie and Ally can over to him while he rolled his truck back and forth in the sand, staring at him until he looked up.

"Where's heaven?" Julie asked. "Is it in Iowa?"

"It's in the sky," Dean mumbled, rolling his truck over their feet so they'd back away.

"How'd your mom get there?" Ally asked.

"Please go away," Dean said quietly shifting back and forth awkwardly. "I don't like talking about my mom."

"Why?" Julie asked. Dean decided that he really didn't like this girl.

"Come on Julie," Ally said, pulling at her friends arm. "Let's go play on the monkey bars. He doesn't wanna talk."

"But I wanna know!" Julie yelled pulling her arm away. Miss Sherry finally noticed that Julie was standing over Dean and made her way over.

"What's going on?" Miss Sherry asked.

"Dean won't tell me about heaven," Julie pouted.

"Why don't you go play on playground," Miss Sherry said.

"But—" Julie protested.

"Now," Miss Sherry said sternly, pointing to the playground. She sat down next to Dean on the wall as Julie and Ally ran away toward the monkey bars. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'll try to keep Julie and Ally away from you."

Dean nodded. "I telled Uncle Bobby and my Dad that the other kids would be mean. They just told me school would be a fun time. But they lied to me. Sometimes they do that to make me feel better, but I always figure it out when they lie to me, and then I'm sad. Uncle Bobby said I could go home if I didn't like school, but he was lying again wasn't he?"

Miss Sherry sighed. "I can't let you go home until the end of the day. It's the rules."

"Okay," Dean said, taking a deep breath to keep himself from crying.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Dean," Miss Sherry promised. "Sometimes school is hard, but I don't think you should give up after just one day one. I think that if you keep trying you might even like school. Not all the kids are going to bother you like Julie and Ally. They're just curious. You're the only one in the class who knows about heaven. They don't understand why you don't want to talk about it." The school bell rang telling everyone to go back inside. "Now, come on, we're going to library to have story time."

"I like stories," Dean smiled, following her inside.

Dean had been to his fair share of libraries in the last year and half. His dad did a lot of research for his job at libraries. He would send Sam and Dean to the kid's section while he looked up lore on whatever he was hunting at the time. That's how Dean got so good at making up stories for Sam. Miss Sherry said that the class could each pick out a book to bring home for the week, so Dean searched the library for a book he thought Sam would like; something with dragons. Sam loved dragons. He found a book of Grimm Fairy Tales that he hadn't read to Sam before. It had a bunch of stories in it. Sam would like that, hearing a different story every night.

The rest of the day was pretty alright after Dean got his book. Miss Sherry made sure that Julie left Dean alone, explaining to her that it wasn't okay to ask Dean about heaven anymore. Miss Sherry showed the class some cool science tricks. He thought is school was like the second half of the day all time that maybe it wasn't so bad after all. It was worth a second chance at least.

"So, Dean," Miss Sherry said while they waited for the bus in the lobby. "Am I going to see you tomorrow or should I give your seat to someone else?"

Dean thought for a minute, contorting his face a little before answering. "I think I'll come back. School's okay."

"Good," Miss Sherry smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

* * *

Dean was met with a full body slam from a two year old the moment he opened the door to Bobby's house. "Deans!" Sam squealed. "I thinked that you was gone forever."

"You missed me?" Dean asked, hugging his brother back. "I missed you too. Wanna see what I got for you?"

Sam stepped back a little his eyes wide and excited. "I get a present from school?"

Dean opened his book bag and pulled out the big book he borrowed from the library. "My teacher says we can borrow it for a whole week. There's lots of stories in there for bed time."

"I like it," Sammy smiled. He then grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him into the living room. "Uncle Bobby! Deans is back! See what he gives me!"

"How was it?" Bobby asked, walking into the room from the kitchen drying his hands on a dish towel.

"At first it was scary," Dean said. "Then the other kids were mean to me, just like I said, but my teacher is really nice. She taked us to the library, and that was cool. And then I learned things. I liked that part. I telled my teacher that I'd go back tomorrow."

"So not all bad then?"

Dean shook his head. "Not _all_ bad. Miss Sherry says that she can get Julie to stop being mean to me. Julie is the meanest kid. She kept asking me about Mommy and heaven, but I telled her I didn't want to talk about it, but she wouldn't leave me alone."

"Sorry to hear that," Bobby said.

"I don't like the other kids, Uncle Bobby," Dean said. "I don't think they like me very much either."

"What do you mean they don't like you?" Bobby asked.

Dean sat down on the floor with Sam to play, because Sam was pulling at his sleeve. Sam handed him a green army man and made shooting noises. Dean helped Sam arrange the army men on Bobby's coffee table for battle. Sam liked the way that Dean set up the battles. How he would set them up hiding behind things instead of in lines like his dad or Bobby set them up. To Sam, Dean was the best at pretty much everything, and when he was two, Green Army fights were pretty high up on that list.

Bobby realized that Dean was done talking about school. That was just how Dean was, stubborn as his father. He didn't say a thing about school at dinner, even when asked questions about it. He didn't say a thing about it while the boys wound down for bed. He only talked about the book for Fairy Tales as he read it to Sammy before lights out.


	4. Chapter 4

In the second week of school, Dean was sort of getting used to it. He'd settled into the routine, he liked that part. He liked knowing what was coming next. He'd sort of become friends with the boy that sat next to him, they would share crayons and stuff, but Dean still felt like he didn't belong there. He spent his recesses against the wall alone with his fire truck and ate alone at lunch time, away from all the other kids. He had gotten used to not staying in one place very long in his time on the road with his dad. Staying with Bobby while his dad was off doing whatever it was that he did to monster was very weird for him. He figured it was better to keep his distance from the other kids. Making friends wasn't important. Sam was his best friend, he didn't need anyone else.

Miss Sherry stood at the chalk board, writing that week's spelling words when the fire alarm went off. Most of the class looked around confused, waiting for Miss Sherry to tell them what to do.

"We need to get out!" Dean yelled standing up so fast his chair fell backward. "Miss Sherry we have to go outside right now before it gets us!"

"It's okay," Miss Sherry said holding up her arms to calm the class. "Dean's right, we have to go outside. So let's line up."

"No!" Dean said as everyone started to stand and make their way to the lineup station. "We gotta go before the fire monster gets us! We gotta go right now!"

The class looked back and forth between Dean and his frantic movements and Miss Sherry's calming demeanor. It took longer than it should have to get everyone in line and out the door with Dean freaking out.

"Okay everyone," Miss Sherry said herding the class down the hall and into the parking lot. "We're going to wait here until the Principal says we can go back inside."

"Where's the firemen?" Dean asked pulling at Miss Sherry's sleeve. "How come they aren't looking for the fire? How are we gonna knows it's safe it the firemen don't check? If they don't check the fire monster will get us. Miss Sherry, how did it find me at school? Daddy sayed that school was safe and there was no monsters. How come he lied to me?"

"Calm down, Dean" Miss Sherry said sweetly, looking curiously at the little boy. "What found you?"

"The fire monster!" Dean exclaimed. "It keeps finding me. What if it takes you away? I don't want you to go away. It tried to take Sammy two times, but I taked him into the hallway. It taked everyone. It can't take you too. "

"Dean, sweetie," Miss Sherry said, kneeling next to him. "It's not a real fire. It's just practice, nothing to be worried about, okay? I'm not going anywhere. No one's going anywhere."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked the panic never leaving his voice. "What if the fire monster is in there, but it's hiding? It did that one time when it almost got Sam. If I wasn't pay attention it would have gotten him and taked him away. What if it does that, sneaks up and just takes you away?"

"I'm sure," Miss Sherry answered. "There's no monster, Dean, I promise. Remember how I told you I wouldn't lie to you?" Dean nodded. "Everything's going to be okay. It's just practice. There's no fire monster."

Dean took a deep breath to calm himself down. Miss Sherry stood up and wiped off her knees, but Dean never let go of her hand. This was one very curious boy. She was definitely going to have her hands full with this one.

* * *

John wanted to take the boys with him on a weekend hunt of a vengeful spirit in Minnesota. He figured his boys had spent way too much time at Bobby's. They were his boys after all. They weren't Bobby's responsibility. It was nice that they had a place to sleep and could stay still for couple months, but he wasn't going to let a practical stranger he met hunting demons raise his boys. So he decided to pick up Dean at school and just take off; just for the weekend. He'd make sure Dean was back in school by Monday, if the hunt when according to plan. Miss Sherry and Dean met him in the lobby as she took the class to buses.

Sam ran up to Dean, jumping excitedly. "Is this where you school Deans?"

"No Sammy," Dean laughed. "My classroom is down the hall."

"Can I sees it?" Sam asked wide eyed. "Please?"

"We have to ask Dad, you know that." Dean looked around for his Dad, to see if they could for just a second.

"Pah-lease!" Sammy begged. "I want to see where you school!"

"Is this your brother, Dean?" Miss Sherry asked.

"I's Sam." Sam nodded. "I wanna see Dean's school. One time I tried to go in his back pack, but I was too big and Daddy said I was gonna breaked it. Who is you?"

"I'm Dean's teacher, Miss Sherry."

"Deans talks about you all the time," Sam said. "He thinks you is very pretty." Miss Sherry laughed.

"Sam," Dean hissed through his teeth, his face nearly as red as his fire helmet. "I don't know what he's talking about. He's a weird one. I never said that."

"Yeah-huh," Sam nodded. "I heared you telled Uncle Bobby that you thinked she was the prettiest girl in your whole school."

Dean glared at Sam, then turned to Miss Sherry and shook his head. "No I didn't," he laughed. Then hissed through his teeth at his brother: "That was a secret Sam. You don't tell secrets."

"But Deans, you said," Sam nodded.

"Alright boys, let's go," John said resting his hands on Dean's shoulders and turning his toward the door.

"Wait," Miss Sherry interjected. "Are you Mr. Winchester?"

John nodded and guided Dean toward the door.

"Can I borrow you for just a second?"

"What did he do?" John said, grip tightening against Dean's shoulders.

"It's nothing like that," Miss Sherry smiled. "I just have a concern."

"Do not move," John said. "And watch your brother. Don't let him wander off." He followed Miss Sherry to the edge of the lobby.

"Dean is a very bright little boy," Miss Sherry started. "It's just, he… well, he doesn't seem to connect with the other kids. He's just withdrawn. Is there something I should know about as his teacher? Something that could help me get him involved with the other students in the class? Is there anything he's said at home about school? I'm kind of concerned."

"He said that the other kids are mean to him," John shrugged. "He said someone was making fun of him about his Mom. I know he didn't really want go to school to start with so I figured he was just exaggeratin', tryin' to get out of comin' back."

"That hasn't happen since the first day," Miss Sherry said. "There was a little girl that wanted to know about heaven, wouldn't leave Dean alone. But still the only other student he talks to is the little boy that sits next to him. He isolates himself from everyone at lunch and recess."

"He likes to be by himself," John shrugged. "He hides under the dining room table to play with his fire truck so his brother doesn't touch it. Just how he is."

"I haven't been a teacher for a _long_ time Mr. Winchester," Miss Sherry interjected "But I can tell when there's something wrong with one of my students. He seems upset and sad almost every day and I just want to make him comfortable here. "

"He's six," John said. "We've moved around a lot since his mom died. He's never really been around kids his own age. The only kid he's been around in years is Sam. Needs time to adjust, it's a big change for him. There's nothing _wrong_ with my son. If you're sayin' something about my parenting skills I suggest you step off Miss. Anything else? "

"Yes, actually," Miss Sherry said aggravated by John's demeanor and dismissive attitude. "We had a fire drill today. I know Dean really likes firemen, I've had other kids who have worn the firemen helmet and coat before, but I've never had a student have quite the reaction Dean had today. He kept saying something about the fire monster getting him. He said that it was going to take _me_ away from him. He was very upset that there weren't fire trucks at the school. He didn't want to go back into the building afterward."

"The fire monster," John sighed. "Has he told you what happened to him mother?"

"No," Miss Sherry answered. "He hasn't said anything about her since the first day of school when he said she was in heaven. It wasn't something I ever asked about. I figured if he wanted to talk about it he would."

"There was a house fire when he was four," John said quickly. "The fire monster is what Dean says took his mom away from him."

"Oh," Miss Sherry said, a bit taken aback. "He didn't say anything about that. Not that I pushed, he just said that she was in heaven. I honestly didn't think the two were connected. He just kept saying that the fire monster almost took his brother but he saved him."

"I burnt dinner a few months after the fire and he freaked out," John said now visually annoyed with the conversation. "That's when he started to talk about the monster. Now I have places to be if you don't mind." John turned to see Dean holding Sam at his knees while Sam tried to reach the ceiling. "Put Sam down. Let's go."

"Yes sir," Dean said, lowering Sam to the floor. "See you on Monday Miss Sherry!" He waved and grabbed Sam's hand following closely in his father's wake.

* * *

They boys ended up spending most of their weekend locked in a motel room outside St. Paul by themselves.

Their Dad only let them around town when they first got there, talking them from store to store downtown for supplies.

"I tired!" Sam whined pulling at Dean's coat sleeve. "I no walk no more."

"Come on Sammy," Dean encouraged. "We're almost done, I think just a few more stops, okay. I think Dad's gonna get us ice cream if we behave real good."

"Nooooo," Sam whined dramatically before laying down on the sidewalk. "I don't want ice cream. I take nap."

"Sam," Dean growled between gritted teeth. "Get up, Dad's gonna yell at us."

Sam fake snored loudly. "Can't hear you. I asleep."

"This isn't funny, Sammy," Dean said trying to pick his brother up off the ground. The kid only weighed twenty-five pounds Dean didn't understand why he seemed so heavy now. "Dad's gonna turn around and not see us and kill us."

"No," Sam said, face pressed into the concrete. "He knowed I tired. I telled him. It naps time for Sammy."

"Get up," Dean said in a voice as close to his father's as he could copy. People walking down the street were starting to stare at them. Dean looked around for their dad, but he didn't see him. He could run off and find him, but he knew he'd be in more trouble for leaving Sam laying in the sidewalk than staying with him and leaving his line of sight.

"I too tired." Sam moaned. "I wanna take a nap."

"You can take a nap when we get to the hotel," Dean said. "Right now you have to be a big boy and get up."

"I not a big boy," Sam said. "I a baby."

"Sam," Dean sighed. "Dad's gonna be really mad. Like madder than anything ever. You know how Dad is when he's mad. You want him to be mad at you Sammy?"

"No," Sam said in a small voice. "He's scary when he mad."

"Right," Dean said, crouching down next to his brother. "So can you get up now please?"

"Boys!" Came the booming voice of their father from in front a store a few store fronts down. "What's going on? What's wrong with Sam?"

"He's tired," Dean said rolling his eyes.

"So he laid down in the street?"

"I tired," Sam whined. "I take nap."

"You can take a nap at the motel," John said with little patience in his voice. "Get up off the ground Sam."

"Nuh-huh," Sam said. "Too tired."

"I'll give you a piggy back ride," Dean promised.

"Don't encourage him, Dean," John warned.

"Well, he'll never get up," Dean shrugged.

"I can has a piggy ride?" Sam said rolling on to his back.

"If you get up," Dean said nodding.

"Okay!" Sam said excitedly, pushing himself to his feet. "I has piggy ride." He held his arms up making grabby hands at his brother.

Dean stood up and turned around so Sam could climb on.

"You shouldn't encourage him to misbehave," John said leading the boys back to the car. "It's only going to make him misbehave more."

"He's my brother," Dean said. "I like to make him happy. That's what brother's do."

"Whatever," John said popping the back door open for the boys to climb in.

Sam was asleep about three seconds after Dean strapped him into his car seat, John had to carry him into motel. Dean tried but it was too awkward for him to pull his brother out of the car seat. He wasn't quite tall enough. John placed Sammy down on the bed he would share with Dean that first night. They'd get their own beds when Dad left in the morning, then Dean and John unloaded the bags from the back of the car.

"I wanna know what you were thinkin' pulling that stunt of yours downtown," John demanded.

"I didn't do nothing," Dean answered. "Sammy said he was tired then he just laid down."

"You couldn't get him up?" John said, angrily.

Dean shook his head. "No Daddy, but I tired. I really did. He wouldn't get up. I pulled him up, but he played dead. He wouldn't get up."

"You should have tried harder," John said. "What if something happened to him? You know what's out there. What if someone tried to take him."

"I stood there," Dean said. "Right next to him. Nothin' coulda taken him."

John breathed heavily out his nose. "I don't like excuses Dean, do better."

"I sorry," Dean pouted, trying his best not the cry, only babies cried, but he didn't like it when his dad was disappointed in him.

"Don't apologize," John repeated. "Do better."

"Yes sir," Dean said shakily. "I will."

"Good," John said. "Now help get dinner ready."

Dean nodded and ran to help unpack the bags they'd brought in from the car.

* * *

"Deans," Sam whispered later that night pulling at the sheets on Dean's bed in the middle of the night. "Deans."

"Go to sleep Sam," Dean answered.

"I can't," Sam whispered. "Too scared."

Dean sighed and rolled over making eye contact with Sam's terrified face.

"Of what Sammy?" Dean asked helping Sam up into his bed. "You know I can protect you from anything."

"I had a scary dream," Sam said pressing his head into Dean's side. "A dragon crawled in the window and taked you away to live with him forever."

"You know I'd never let that happen, Sammy," Dean said stroking his hair. "Nothing is ever gonna take me away from you. Never."

"It just comed in the window and scooped you up," Sam said. Dean could feel his little brother's tears through is pajamas. "Yous didn't even know. Yous was asleep. He just got you and taked you away."

Dean took a deep breath and tried to remember what his mom used to do when he had a bad dream. Mom used to sing to him, but Dean couldn't remember the words. So he pulled Sammy close, as tight to him as he could, kissed the top of his head and hummed a jerky off key version on something kind of like "Hey Jude," as close as he could remember until Sam fell asleep.

* * *

Sam seemed better in the morning. Dean had made sure he slept through the rest of the night; never took his eyes off him until after sunrise. There was no talk of monsters; Sam was his regular obnoxious self.

"I wanna play!" Sam said running between the bathroom door and the door to the outside over and over, while Dean struggled with his math homework on the bed nearest the door. "Go outside, Deans!"

"Not until Dad gets back," Dean said impatiently, because he'd said it about six hundred times since they'd woken up. "You know the rules. I've already told you. You want Dad to get mad at you again like yesterday?"

"OUTSIDE!" Sam yelled, climbing into the chair and jumping on the cushion.

"Get down, Sam," Dean sighed. "You're gonna get hurt and Dad's gonna be mad if you get hurt. And you know how Dad gets when he's mad."

"He yelled really loud." Sam said. "Like yesterday when he yelled at you."

"Yeah," Dean said seriously. "He did because you can't behave for three minutes."

"Oh, I sorry," Sam said as he started jumping again. "I want you to play with me!" Play. With. Me."

"Inna little bit," Dean said. "I gotta do my homework."

"For school?" Sam asked, curiously, climbing out of the chair. "Can you teached me school?"

"You can't even read Sammy," Dean said as Sam climbed into Dean's bed. "I can't teach you numbers."

"Numbers? I knows numbers," Sam said pointing at Dean's worksheet. "I knows all the numbers. All the way to ten."

"That's good, but there's number bigger than ten."

"Nu-huh," Sam said shaking his head. "I only has ten fingers."

"Yeah, but you also have ten toes," Dean explained. Sam sat cross legged and wide eyed taking in every word. "So ten plus ten." Dean pointed to the question on his paper.

"Two tens!" Sam said excitedly clapping. "Right? I do school?"

"Almost," Dean said, laughing. "Ten plus ten is twenty. How about an easier one?" Dean took Sam's hands and made one hand hold up three fingers and the other hold up two. "Three plus two. How many is that?"

Sam squished his face and counted his fingers. "Four. No Five?"

"Good job!" Dean smiled and ruffled Sam's hair.

"I do good?" Sam laughed. "I do school? Can I do more school? I can go to school with you now?"

"You're not old enough yet," Dean said, knowing that no matter how many times he told his brother that, he'd never stop asking. The kid had tried to zip himself into Dean's back pack at one point, until Dad yelled at him. "But you can help me with my homework."

Dean did the same thing for each of his remaining problems on his worksheet. Sam usually didn't get the answer right, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, anything that kept him from jumping off the walls.

"That's it Sammy, we finished it."

"No more school?" Sam said sadly. "I want more school. I's like school. Do more school, Deans."

"We did it all," Dean explained. "I don't have anymore. You wanna play a game now?"

Sam shrugged noncommittally, so Dean pounced, tickling Sam's sides. Sam squealed and kicked beneath him.

"No Deans!" Sam said breathlessly. "Not the tickle game."

"You don't like the tickle monster?" Dean smiled tickling Sam's ribs and blowing a loud raspberry on his belly. "You know how to fight the tickle monster. I taught you."

"Deans is the bestest brother," Sam said trying to squirm away.

"What else?" Dean pressed not letting up.

"Dean is the ruler of Sam, and I's has to do whatever he says!"

"Good boy," Dean smiled, sitting back on his feet. Sam moved quickly, getting away before Dean started to tickle again, in the scuffle of movement he managed to kick Dean in the face, right under his eye.

* * *

John didn't even notice when he came stumbling in smelling of bourbon later that night. John didn't notice the purpling bruise as they drove back to South Dakota the next day, he didn't notice until Bobby asked him about over dinner Sunday night.

"In that tiny little room you were rough housing?" John asked.

Dean nodded slowly. "Sam was climbing the walls!"

"Nuh-huh," Sam said. "I doin' you's homework when you tickle monstered me."

"You didn't see that shiner on the kid's face?" Bobby asked.

"No," John said simply. "But neither of you are watching TV for the next week. I told both of you not to rough house in the motel because you'd get hurt."

"But Sam was going crazy!" Dean whined. "It's Sam's fault. Why do I _always_ get in trouble for what Sam does? It's not fair."

"You're older you should know better," John answered. "And unless you wanna make it two weeks I'd stop complaining."

Dean sighed into his mashed potatoes.

* * *

Dean was very excited to go back to school on Monday. As much as he loved Sammy, being stuck in a motel room and the back seat of the Impala with a two year old for two and half days was exhausting. He hung his fire helmet up on his hook on the entrance way then took his seat between Matthew and Kelley like always.

Miss Sherry came in a few minutes later carrying everyone's writing journals. "Good Monday, everyone." She scanned the class, eyes landing on the purple bruise under Dean's eye. "Hey, Dean, wanna help me hand out these journals?"

Dean jumped up help. Jason and Julie liked the call him a teacher's pet, but he liked to feel special, and Miss Sherry made Dean feel special every day.

"Can I ask you a question?" Miss Sherry whispered as she handed him a bunch of notebooks.

Dean nodded.

"What happened to your eye?" Miss Sherry couldn't help but remember her encounter with Dean's father on Friday. He seemed like the kind of guy could lose his temper pretty easily, and she knew all too well how much of a handful Dean could be.

"Oh," Dean sighed, "I was tickle monster-ing Sammy."

"Okay," Miss Sherry smiled. "How does that give you a black eye?"

"I'm a _really_ good tickle monster, and Sammy's little, but he moves really fast. And after I won he was getting away and he kicked me in the face. My dad was not happy, and Sammy and I got in big trouble for rough housing. We're not allowed to watch TV after dinner all week. I telled him it was an accident, but he was still really mad. Are you mad at me, too? It wasn't on purpose."

"Oh no, of course not, I'm not mad, Dean" Miss Sherry said. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You know you can tell me if you're not alright, if anyone hurts you."

Dean looked at her confused, but nodded. "Just Sam. One time he bit me and I had a big Sam mark on arm for, like, ever. It was gross. But Uncle Bobby told Sammy it was bad to bite things that weren't food. And that I wasn't food. So he didn't bite me again. But sometimes he kicks, but not on purpose. He's little. Sometimes he doesn't knowed he not supposed to do things. But then I get in trouble because I'm the oldest and I'm supposed to knowed better. Even though it wasn't my fault."

"Okay," Miss Sherry smiled. "Let's hand these out to everyone, okay?"

Dean nodded enthusiastically, and then turned to hand out the notebooks to his classmates.

Miss Sherry decided she was going to watch Dean more carefully. He always seemed so out of his element in class. He wasn't slow; he was very smart, on par if not ahead of his classmates when it came to reading and comprehension but so far behind socially. He just wanted to spend all his time alone with his fire truck.


	5. Chapter 5

They were learning about time in math the first week of December. Most of the students really didn't understand, but Dean raised his hand as high as he could about halfway through the lesson.

"Miss Sherry, I has a question," he said. "Can we go back in time?"

"What do you mean?"

"One time I saw a movie with my Dad about going back in time."

"Don't be stupid," Julie rolled her eyes. "It's a movie. It's not real."

"Yeah huh," Dean said. "It's real."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't go back in time," Miss Sherry said. "It's just a movie."

"Told ya," Julie said sticking out her tongue.

"You're such a jerk face," Dean spat.

"Stop," Miss Sherry said. "Both of you, or I'll put you both is the time out corners."

Julie smiled to herself, proud that she's proven herself right. Dean scowled.

At recess after lunch, Dean sat alone with his fire truck when Julie came over him.

"Do you wanna go back in time because your mom's dead?" Julie asked. "My mom told me what heaven was. She said it's where dead people go, but she told me I was supposed to be nice to you. But it's really hard because you say really stupid things in class all the time."

Dean didn't even look up.

"Is that why you're such a weirdo?" Julie asked. "Because your mom's dead?"

When asked later, Dean would swear that never in his life had he ever hit a girl, and _technically, _he _kicked_ Julie so he wasn't lying, and Julie kind of deserved it. Or at least that's what Dean would tell people when they asked.

Miss Sherry ran across the playground in a speed she didn't thing was possible. Pulling Julie away from Dean and handing her off to another teacher who had also seen what had happened before grabbing Dean by the arm.

"What happened?" Miss Sherry demanded. "You know better than to hit people."

"I didn't hit her," Dean said angrily. "I kicked her, because she's mean."

"I'm not mean!" Julie spat. "You're a weirdo."

"I'm very disappointed in both of you," Miss Sherry said, looking between Julie and Dean. "You both know better than to hit."

* * *

Dean and Julie sat in the Principal's office glaring at each other arms crossed over their chests waiting for their parents to come get them. Julie's mother and John arrived a short time after the fight was broken up. Julie's mom did not look impressed. The look on John's face was all Dean needed to see to realize how much trouble he was in.

"It wasn't my fault!" Dean said the moment his dad walked into the room. "She's mean!"

"I wouldn't be mean to you if you weren't a freak!"

Julie's mom looked over the John and chucked, "Looks like we got a little school yard crush going on."

"Yeah," Dean said. "I want to crush her."

"Dean," John said his voice void of any patience; he clearly didn't see anything funny about this situation.

Dean blew a deep breath out his nose, eyebrows close together, glaring across the room at Julie.

"Explain yourself," John said. It was taking almost all of his resolve to keep himself from yelling.

"Every time I say anything she makes fun of me," Dean said quickly.

"Because you say stupid things!" Julie retorted. "No one thinks that you can go back in time! You're stupid."

"Am not!" Dean growled. "Stop being mean. I didn't do nothing to you."

"Yeah-huh," Julie said. "You never answer me when I ask you stuff about heaven. You just be a freak about it, and I try to be nice, and you just be weird."

"Julie," Her mom said with all the patience in the world. "Is this the little boy you were talking about the other day? The one I told you to be nice to?"

Julie nodded. "I tried, but he's so weird."

"Obviously," the Principal said from behind his desk. "We can't have this kind of behavior, so we'll be sending them both home for the day, and if anything like this happens again, I'll be forced to take a more serious action. We can't have students physically fighting on the playground."

"You hit her?" John said through tightly gritted teeth.

"She was talking about Mom," Dean whined.

"So you hit her?"

"No," Dean looked down at the ground. "I kicked her."

"Did you hit him back?" Julie's mom asked.

Julie shook her head quickly. "Miss Sherry pulled me away before I could."

"Yeah-huh!" Dean said. "Don't lie, Julie, you hit back!"

"No I didn't!" Julie spat back.

"Yes you did!" Dean said angrily. "You tried to hit my face but you hit my helmet! You cutted your hand you liar. It's bleedin'!"

"Dean, stop it. I apologize for my son," John said as if it physically hurt him to do so. "I definitely taught him better than that. You do not hit people. Especially little girls."

"But she was talkin' about Mom!"

"Dean," John warned. "I will deal with you later."

"Julie will never speak of Dean's mother again," Julie's mom said. "I've told her that it's not okay. Apologize."

"I didn't do anything!" Julie whined. "He _kicked_ me!"

"You talked about my mom!" Dean practically growled. "I telled you a billion million times I don't talk about her! And you always do!"

"Apologize," Julie's mom repeated. "I told you to be nice to him."

"I don't need her to be nice," Dean grumbled. "I just wants her to leave me alone."

"I can't," Julie spat. "You're a freak!"

Julie's mom looked over to John. "Clearly this isn't going to be easy, but believe me, when she came home from the first day of classes and asked where heaven was because a boy in her class's mom was there, I told her to be nice to him. Now Julie, you will apologize."

"I'm sorry," she said with no emotion behind it.

"For what?" Her mom pressed.

"For asking if you were a freak because your mom was dead. Even though you is a freak."

"Dean," John said.

"I'm sorry for kicking you," Dean mumbled to the floor. "Even though you deserved it because you're mean."

"Let's go," John said grabbing the back of Dean's jacket. He pulled Dean out to the parking lot. Dean got into the car and waited for what was surely to be quite a scowling. "How the fuck can you think it was okay to _kick_ a little girl?"

"I telled you," Dean mumbled. "She maked fun of me. She maked fun of me every day for no reason."

"You don't get to _attack _people, Dean," John said, putting the car in drive. "You know better than that."

"But Dad!" Dean whined.

"Do not talk back to me," John yelled.

"Yes sir," Dean said taking in a shaking breath, remembering that it was babyish to cry, and he wasn't a baby.

"You're goin' straight to your frickin' room when he get home. You don't get to play with Sam, you don't get to watch TV, you don't get nothin'. You're lucky if I let you eat dinner tonight. You understand? You're lucky you don't get back handed."

"Yes sir," Dean whispered.

Dean followed in his father's shadow up the stairs alongside the hardware store to their apartment. John stood in the doorway with his arms folded across this chest as Dean made his why sullenly to him room.

"I'm going to get Sam at Bobby's," John told him. "Do not leave that room. I'll know if you do. Think about what you did today, and why you shouldn't have done it. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled at the floor.

* * *

He fell onto his bed with a thump, face first into his pillow. He knew that kicking Julie wasn't the right thing to do, but he'd been trying to do things the right way since the first day of school. All the things Bobby had told him hadn't worked. He tried to just ignore her, he tried telling Miss Sherry, but that labeled him a teacher's pet and a tattle tale. He didn't think he had another choice. Kicking her seemed like the best and only decision he had left. He tried to think about what his dad would want him to say. Reasons he should never hit a girl, even a mean one, but he couldn't think of a single one. If Julie had been a boy, he didn't think his dad would be so mad at him, but Dad didn't know Julie. He would never understand.

"Deans!" Sam yelled busting into the room. "You teach me more school today?"

"I can't Sammy," Dean said into the pillow. "I'm in punishment."

"So you can't teach me?" Sam said. Dean could hear the sadness in the little boy's voice. That was worse than having to go to bed without dinner or his dad being mad at him. "I am in punishment too?"

"Sam," John sighed from the living room. "Come out here, Dean's in trouble you can't play with him."

"Am I in trouble too?" Sam whined. "Me and Deans does everything together."

"No, Sammy," John said. "You're not. Just come here. Why don't you draw some pictures? You like drawing right?"

"Yeah," Sam said a defeated sound to his voice. "I color."

Dean curled into a ball on his bed. He'd let down a lot of people today: Miss Sherry, his dad, Sammy, his mom's memory. He'd never felt worse in his life. He could hear his dad getting something ready for dinner in the kitchen, probably cheeseburgers. That was Dean's favorite. Dad would probably to that to him as punishment. Dean did his best not to cry. He couldn't allow himself to cry. Crying would make everything worse.

"Dean," John yelled a few minutes later. "Come out here."

Dean took a deep breath and climbed down from his bed, and walked into the living room with his eyes glued to the floor.

"You hungry?" John asked. Dean nodded. "Then get your ass over here before I change my mind."

Dean took his seat next to Sam and pulled his bowl close to him. He ate in silence like he figured he was supposed to, even though Sam never stopped asking him questions.

"I drawed you a new picture Deans," Sam said. "A cuz I knowed you was sad. Wanna know was it is? It's an orange dragon! I think it's the bestest dragon I ever colored. Wanna see?"

"Not right now, Sammy," John warned. "Dean's still in trouble."

"What did he do?" Sam asked. "I's never been in trouble for all day afore. Did he leave his toys out?"

"Don't worry about it Sammy," John sighed. "Dean knows what he did was wrong. He'll be off punishment when understands why it was wrong."

"Oh," Sam said kicking his feet back and forth. "Can I still give Deans my picture?"

"Later," John said.

"Okay," Sam nodded. "It's a really, _really_ good picture. You'll like it."

Dean looked up from the table to look at his dad, who still looked angry. He figured Dad would be mad for a long time. He'd really messed up this time.

After dinner, John put Sammy to bed, and sat Dean down on the well-worn sofa that came with the apartment for a talk.

"Do you understand why I'm mad?"

"Because I hit a girl," Dean mumbled.

"No," John sighed, like it pained him to have to explain himself to his six year old. "I'm mad because you know better. I'm mad because I taught you better than that. It doesn't matter if it's a girl or a boy, or a grown up, or Sammy. You don't kick people. No matter what they say to you."

"Daddy," Dean said quietly. "You don't understand. She's so mean, and she gets the other kids to be mean. Miss Sherry always tells them to leave me alone. But then they make fun of me for telling and say I'm the teacher's pet and it doesn't stop. They never stop Dad. And I don't know what to do."

"Ignore them," John said. "Just ignore them."

"I tried that," Dean said, trying so hard to hold in tears. "That's what Miss Sherry and Uncle Bobby said to do, but I can't. They don't stop. I don't do nothing to them. I just sit by myself and play with my fire truck and they make fun of me all day."

John sighed. "It's part of life, Buddy. Not everyone's nice. You're just gonna hafta learn to live with it. Find a way to get along with this Julie girl that doesn't involve kicking her at recess."

"If she wasn't mean, I wouldn't have kicked her," Dean defended. "But I telled her over and over to stop asking me about Mom, and she never stopped."

"Ignore her," John said again. "You just have to ignore her. Soon enough we'll leave here and you won't have to put up with Julie any more, alright. As soon as the school year is over, you won't have to worry about it. Just a few more months okay."

"I guess," Dean mumbled. "But what if she keeps talking about Mom. Even now after everyone telled her to leave me alone."

"Just keep telling your teacher," John said. "Let her handle it. Don't worry about what the other kids say about you. Just don't because it doesn't matter. Now go to bed. You're still in trouble. No TV until I say so, even if you're at Bobby's, understand?"

"Yes sir," Dean nodded, as he slid off the couch and made his way into the bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

Birthdays were a big deal in Miss Sherry's first grade class. Dean was beyond excited to get the special treatment of being the birthday boy. They weren't a big deal at home, and his dad was off in California, and he didn't think Bobby knew when his birthday was. Miss Sherry pinned a big blue "It's my birthday" pin on his shirt first thing in the morning and he got first pick of the classroom chores that week. So he got to feed that class hamster; all in all, a pretty good beginning of the day, until snack time.

"Where are the cupcakes?" Jason asked.

"There aren't any cupcakes today, Jason," Miss Sherry said.

"But its Dean's birthday," Ally said. "Everyone brings cupcakes on their birthday. How come Dean doesn't?"

"I'm not allowed to use the stove," Dean said seriously. "Otherwise I'd maked them. I telled my dad I was supposta have them, but he was busy. We wasn't staying at Uncle Bobby's until tonight."

"But we're supposta have cupcakes," Julie said. "I didn't bring a snack, because I thought we was getting cupcakes. That's not fair Miss Sherry."

"I think I have some popcorn I can make for anyone who didn't bring a snack today," Miss Sherry said, going over to the cabinet and finding a big container of popcorn and the popper. "We can all make popcorn together, how about that?"

"I want cupcakes," Kelly whined. "It's a cupcake day. Dean eats the cupcakes on everyone else's birthday. It's not fair."

Dean squirmed in his seat, eventually laying his head down on the table, trying to make himself as small as possible. Miss Sherry passed out popcorn in bowls to everyone, quieting them for a few minutes. He sat glued to his seat while everyone else got ready for the after snack recess. It had snowed the night before, so recess was going to be quite the adventure. But Dean didn't move. He just sat there with his head down against the table, untouched bowl of popcorn next to him.

"Dean," Miss Sherry said walking over to him from the doorway where she was supervising the rest of the class. "Aren't you coming, we're going to go play in the snow."

"I don't have snow pants," Dean said into his arm. "I can't play in the snow like everyone else. I has to stay on the sidewalk, so I don't want to go outside, because everyone will laugh at me more."

"Dean," Miss Sherry said crouching next to him and rubbing his back. "It's okay, but I can't just leave you here alone. You have to go with everyone else."

"But I don't want them to laugh at me no more," Dean said lifting his head, tears flowing down his face. "They're gonna know that I cried and they're gonna laugh at me for being a baby who doesn't have cupcakes or snow pants."

"Sweetie," Miss Sherry said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Miss Sherry!" Someone shouted from the doorway. "It's getting hot, can we go outside now?"

"Just a second," Miss Sherry answered. "Look, Dean, I can't just leave you here by yourself."

"I won't touch anything," Dean said lip quivering. "I'll just sit right here, like a good boy, you don't has to worry about me."

"Dean, I can't," Miss Sherry sighed looking up from Dean to the line by the door. "How about this? You go to the library, and tell Mrs. Westbrook that you're staying in from recess. The rest of the class will meet you there later. Does that sound okay? You can find a good book to read to your brother without anybody bothering you."

Dean nodded. "I just don't want everyone to laugh at me more."

"I know sweetie," Miss Sherry said, her heart breaking, pulling the boy into a tight hug.

"Miss Sherry?" Dean whispered into her ear. "Don't tell anyone I cried. I don't want them to think I'm a baby. Don't tell my dad either if he ever asks you, please?"

"I promise I won't tell anyone," Miss Sherry smiled. "It will be our secret."

Dean wiped his face with the back of his hand and stood up, heading toward the library while everyone else went outside.

Dean found a quiet area of the library where no one would see him and curled into a tight ball. He had a while before the class would come in, if no one knew he was crying it was like that he wasn't crying at all. He stayed there until Miss Sherry found him quite a while later. He'd fallen asleep from all his crying.

* * *

When he got home Dean was met, as he usually was, by twenty five solid pounds of Sam.

"Happy Birfday!" Sam yelled. "I's maked you something, come see!" Sam grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him into Bobby's living room where the coffee table was covered with crayons and paper.

Sam grabbed a piece of blue paper and handed it to his brother.

"I maked this all by myself!" He said proudly. "Sept that Uncle Bobby writed the letters, but I writed my name! OPEN!"

"Thank you Sammy, this is great."

Dean opened the card and smiled. "It says "Happy Birfday Deans, the bestest brother ever. Love Sammy. I writed my name right there." Sam pointed to a scribble that almost looked like it might say "Sammy" toward the bottom of the page.

"What is this drawing of Sam?" Dean asked, knowing that it was most likely a dragon.

"I's drawed you!" Sam said pointing to a stick a person. "You's savin' me from the big purple dragon. That's me! You like it?"

"I love it Sammy, thank you," Dean smiled, hugging Sam as tight as he could. "This is the best ever."

"Come sees what Uncle Bobby did!" Sam pulled Dean into the kitchen where Bobby stood over the stove. "Uncle Bobby, Deans is home. I gived him my card."

Bobby turned around to face the boys. "How was school, today?"

"I don't like school," Dean said. "It's not fun anymore. The other kids get meaner all the time. And today everyone was mad because I didn't have cupcakes. But I'm not allowed to use the stove to make them. And Dad's busy and no one ever understands. And then I didn't have snow pants so I can't play in the snow but Miss Sherry let me go to the library for recess so it wasn't too bad, cuz no one laughed at me about not having snow pants." Dean took a deep breath because he couldn't cry in front of Bobby.

"There has to be some part of school that you like, Dean," Bobby said, a sad look on his face. "I know your classmates haven't been the greatest, but you hafta like something."

"Well…" Dean said, thinking hard. "I like the learning stuff. Like learning time and learning about the weather and why it rains, and reading. Miss Sherry says I'm really good at math. I like numbers and going to the library."

"That's what you gotta concentrate on then, buddy," Bobby smiled. "You can't let the bad stuff ruin the fun stuff."

"I guess," Dean mumbled.

"Show him!" Sammy yelled impatiently. "Show him the thing!"

"After dinner, Sam," Bobby laughed. "It's not ready yet."

Sam sighed like this was the most inconvenient thing in the world. "But-"

"Go play in the living room, Sam," Bobby said. "I'll show him in a little bit."

Sam rolled his whole head, since he didn't quite get rolling his eyes, then stormed off into the living room.

"Sit down Dean," Bobby said as Dean went to follow his brother. "I wanna talk to you for a minute."

Dean sat down on a kitchen chair slowly, unsure about what he'd done wrong this time. It had been a long time since he kicked Julie, or broken anything on accident. Maybe Miss Sherry called and told him that he was a cry baby. That was probably it.

"What if, after dinner I brought you downtown to get some snow pants?" Bobby said.

"Daddy says I don't need them," Dean mumbled.

"But it would help you fit in at school having snow pants?"

"I guess," Dean said shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Everyone else has them. I can play in the snow if I has them."

"Well, I get them for you for your birthday," Bobby said. "A birthday present, alright?"

"I guess so," Dean said, staring at the floor.

"I gotta 'nother question for you kidd-o," Bobby continued. "Why don't you think the other kids like you?"

"They're mean," Dean said quickly. "They make fun of me all the time."

"Okay," Bobby said. "I got an idea for you. When I was your age, and kids used to make fun me, I would make them laugh."

Dean looked up through his eye lashes. "Did it help?"

"If they're laughing with you, they can't laugh at you," Bobby said. "I bet you can do that, make people laugh. You make Sam laugh all the time."

"He's two, Uncle Bobby. He thinks everything is funny."

Bobby smiled and patted Dean on the shoulder. "Just try it. See if you can make them laugh. Maybe that will help you out, and you won't be so sad at school."

"I'll try," Dean nodded. "Can I go play with Sammy now?"

"O'course," Bobby smiled. Dean ran off into the next room. Bobby heard Sammy's squealing laughter as the tickle monster attacked.

* * *

At dinner the boys ate better than they usually did. Bobby was a much better cook than John could dream of being. He'd put together a pot roast with potatoes and corn, he'd even made a peach cobbler for dessert.

"Pie?" Dean said fork full of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth.

"Birfday pie!" Sammy exclaimed. "I help-ed! I's poured the white stuff in the bowl and I stir-ed it!"

"Really?" Dean smiled. "Thanks Uncle Bobby."

"And Sam! I help-ed." Sam whined.

"No problem Buddy," Bobby smiled ruffling Sam's hair. Every piece of Bobby wanted to make Dean happy, wanted to fix everything, but they weren't his boys. He couldn't do a damned thing except make sure those boys left his house with smiles on their faces. He couldn't give them back their childhoods, but he could make sure they had fond memories of him.

After cleaning up, and getting back from the store, Dean spread out his homework over the kitchen table. He liked this part of school a lot. He was really good at remembering things he read. Dad told him that was one of the things that would make him a good hunter someday. He was working his way through a math worksheet when Bobby sat down opposite him.

"I don't need help Uncle Bobby," Dean said. "Miss Sherry says I'm the hardest worker in the class."

"Really now," Bobby smiled, not doubting it for a second. He'd seen the boy slave away the work he brought home.

"I just gots math to do, and then a little reading and questions and then I can give Sammy a bath."

"How about I give Sammy a bath tonight?" Bobby suggested. "You can pick out any movie you want off my shelf and watch it, or pick a show on tv, how about that."

"Sammy's my job, Uncle Bobby," Dean stated seriously. "I take care of him."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "But everybody gets a day off sometimes. And it's your birthday. Take the day off."

"But Dad will be mad," Dean reasoned.

"Your Daddy don't gotta know everything you do, Dean."

"It's bad to lie," Dean said adjusting his fireman helmet on his head. "And I don't wanna get in trouble again. Daddy can always tell when I'm lyin' Cuz one time Sammy breaked a lamp in a motel being Sam, and I told Dad it was me, and Sammy didn't say nothin' cuz he was asleep, but Dad knowed I was lyin'. He says I'm really bad at it. And both Sammy and me gots in a lot of trouble."

"If your Dad gets mad because I let you watch tv on your birthday instead of giving Sammy a bath," Bobby said, looking Dean in the eye. "He can come talk to me about it. You won't get in trouble."

"I guess that's okay then." Dean surrendered. "S'long as I gets to read him a story. Sammy likes it when I read the stories. He says I do good voices."

"What if I told both of you a story?" Bobby said. "I know some good stories."

"Can you make good voices?" Dean said seriously. "The voices are the most important part."

"I'll do my best," Bobby promised.

Dean thought for a second. "Yeah, I think that'd be good. I don't know about Sammy, but I think it would be nice."

Bobby got up from the table and went into the living room where Sam had a fierce battle between two different lines of green army men.

Dean worked diligently on his homework, he liked when Miss Sherry told him he was smart, and getting gold stars on his papers when she returned them. That was the best Dean felt, when Miss Sherry told him he was good at something. Bobby seemed to understand, like to make him feel smart.

The only thing he liked better than feeling like he was smart was playing with Sammy. Dad had told him that Sammy was his responsibility, but Dean didn't really have to be told. He knew that Sammy needed to be taken care of and their Dad couldn't do it all the time. It made him feel special to know that he could bring a smile the Sam's face. That he ran up to Dean every day when he got home from school. Sam didn't do that to dad when he got back from a hunt, he didn't do it to Bobby, just Dean, and sometimes that was the greatest feeling in the world. Sammy was Dean's whole world and honestly, he didn't want it any other way.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks after Sam turned three with as much fanfare as Dean could convince his dad was necessary, Dean sat in art class with the rest of his classmates. Dean liked art class. He'd made an ash tray out of clay for Bobby, who kept it on his window sill and showed it off to other hunters he'd had over. He'd learn to draw different shapes and flowers to hang on the fridge next to all of Sammy's pictures of dragons. He wasn't much of an artist, but he put a lot of effort in, which the teacher, Mr. Killington, said was the most important.

Things had been going a little bit better for Dean since he listened to Bobby's advice about not letting the other kids bother him and trying to make them laugh. Miss Sherry even told him that she was proud that he was making friends. He'd started to play at recess with the little boy that sat next to him, Matthew. He didn't let him play with his fire truck, but he did share his snack and play tag at recess with him and a couple other boys. It was a start. Dean figured he could probably get the hang of this making friends thing, eventually.

That day as Mr. Killington explained the assignment as he passed out supplies. "Since this week is Mother's Day, we're going to be making some special cards for all our mothers."

"What about Dean?" Jason asked. "Does he have to do not do nothing?"

Julie kicked him hard under the table. "Shhh," she whispered through her teeth. "Don't talk about it. Member when he kicked me? I had a bruise forever."

"Yeah, but he got kicked out of school for a day," Jason whispered back.

Dean smiled sadly and kicked his feet since he couldn't reach the floor. He'd definitely learned his lesson about hitting last time, but he kinda liked that there was threat of what he could do still there. But there was no way he'd ever attack someone like that again. He'd never seen his dad so mad and it was not anything he wanted to see again.

"Dean can make a card for whomever he wants," Mr. Killington said, placing a cup of colored pencils in front of Dean. "A grandma, an aunt, whomever he thinks is represents a mother to him."

Dean nodded while everyone looked at him wearily. It was like they were waiting for him to get upset, but he half expected this assignment. Bobby had warned him about it at the beginning of the week. It wasn't really in the minds of Elementary school teachers to bend the curriculum around one child who lost his mother. Dean knew exactly who to make a good mother's day card for. The rest of the class didn't have to know that he didn't really have a family outside of Uncle Bobby, his Dad and Sammy.

He watched as his classmates as they talked about what they talked about what their mom's liked, silently taking notes since he didn't really know what Mom's liked.

"My mom really likes flowers," Ally said. "I should draw her flowers."

"Mine likes when I dance, maybe I could try to draw me dancing," Julie said.

"My mom likes kittens," another student added.

Dean sat quietly and listened to what everyone else's mom like deciding what he should draw. He thought about the great card that Sammy gave him for his birthday, and how great that had made him feel. He knew it was because Sammy loved him so much, not because of what he drew on it. He nodded to himself and took the green colored pencil and started to draw. He was pretty proud of drawing when he was finished, probably the best one he'd ever drawn.

"Who is that for?" Julie asked when they all got in line to head back to Miss Sherry's room at the end of class.

Dean shrugged and smiled at her, but didn't answer, that was his business. He'd gotten himself in enough trouble this year telling Julie things that she didn't really need to know.

* * *

Back in class Miss Sherry was teaching about weather. Dean had overheard Dad talking to Uncle Bobby about weather and demons, so he figured it was a good idea to pay attention really well to this, even if he wasn't really a big fan of the science stuff usually. Dean didn't really understand why there were different kinds of clouds; they all really looked the same to him. He was going to have to ask Uncle Bobby about that one.

After science it was time to go get the busses, so Miss Sherry started to shepherd everyone toward the lobby.

"Miss Sherry," Dean said, tugging at her shirt sleeve.

""What is it Dean?" Miss Sherry said. "Is your Dad coming to get you today so you don't get on the bus?"

"No," Dean said looking at the floor. "I'm staying with Uncle Bobby this week, my dad's away for the family business. But I gots something for you."

He opened his back pack leaning over his shoulder, holding his helmet on his head. He pulled out the piece of construction paper from art class and handed it to her.

"Mr. Killington say-ed that I could make my Mother's Day card for any lady that I knowed. But I don't gots an Auntie or a Grandma or nothing, so I maked it for you."

Miss Sherry crouched down next to Dean in the middle of the lobby and took the card.

"Thank you Dean, that's very sweet."

"You should read it," Dean nodded. "I worked really hard."

Miss Sherry smiled as opened it. "Dean, this is wonderful."

"I drawed me and you at the school, that's my fire helmet. And it says that you are the nicest lady that I knowed, and that I really like you, and you're probably the bestest teacher ever because you don't make fun of me like everybody did, and that you're really smart a cuz you knowed all the stuff that you teached us."

Miss Sherry hugged the little boy tightly. "Thank you so much sweetie. I love it. I'm gonna stick it on my desk. Now go get on the bus before you miss it."

Dean nodded with his whole body like he always did and ran off to catch his bus.

* * *

"Uncle Bobby," Dean asked struggling with his science worksheet at the kitchen table. "Who do you make Mother's Day cards for?"

"Why?" Bobby asked from the stove where he was stirring dinner.

"Today at school we maked Mother's Day cards," Dean explained. "So I maked one for Miss Sherry. Who do you make yours for?"

"Well, Sport," Bobby said slowly. "When I was your age, I would make them for my mom, but she went to heaven a long time ago."

"So she's with my mom?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered. "I haven't made a Mother's Day card in a long time."

"Everybody at school today was talking about stuff their mom's liked," Dean sighed. "But I don't remember much about mine. Only that she was pretty and she used to sing to me, and she made good soup when I had a tummy ache."

"That's quite a bit," Bobby replied. "You were really little."

"Daddy doesn't like it when I ask questions," Dean said. "If you know-ed her would you tell me about her?"

"Of course I would," Bobby smiled.

"Sammy's gonna figure it someday isn't he? That everybody else has a mom."

"Probably," Bobby answered.

"What am I gonna tell him?" Dean asked seriously. "He's probably gonna be confused."

"I'm sure y'all figure something out," Bobby answered.

"I don't wanna lie to him," Dean said. "Daddy says that lying is the worst thing you can ever do. But I don't knows how to explain it to him."

"Well," Bobby said. "You just gotta tell him what you know."

"I don't think Daddy's gonna like it when Sammy asks those questions," Dean said. "He doesn't really like it now when Sammy asks questions now, and most of them are silly questions. This is why I need a time machine car like that movie. I can fix it so Sammy and Daddy don't have to be sad. But Daddy said I couldn't make the car into a time machine. So I can't fix it."

"What about you?" Bobby asked.

"Huh?" Dean said looking up.

"What about you not being sad?"

Dean nodded but didn't say anything.

"Dean?"

"Daddy gets really mad at me when I talk about Mommy," Dean said seriously. "I just don't want him to get mad at Sammy too."

Bobby took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Your dad isn't the most patient man," Bobby said. "But Sammy's got you. That's better than some kids got."

"Really?"

"O'course." Bobby said. "I think by the time that Sammy starts wondering why he's different from all the other kids, you'll have the right answers. You don't gotta lie to him to make him understand. And I bet he'll understand a whole lot better than some of the kids in you class."

"But Uncle Bobby," Dean continued. "What if Sam asks Dad instead of me?"

"Sport," Bobby said in his most serious voice. "Sam comes to you when he wants a glass of milk and when he has to pee. He'll come to you about just about everythin' in life. I can promise you that one."

"You're sure?" Dean asked.

"Yes, I'm very sure."

"Okay," Dean smiled. "How come there are three different kinds of clouds? Cuz I don't get it. They all look the same."

Bobby chuckled to himself as he stirred his stew. He walked over to Dean and sat across from him. "You're learning about clouds?"

"I don't like science," Dean stated. "It's very hard. But I heard you and Dad talkin' one time about how the demons control the weather, so I guess it's important."

"You don't gotta worry about things like demons Buddy, just focus on learin' school for now."

"But Dad say-ed that when school gets out he's gonna teach me to shoot. So I can be ready."

Bobby's heart ached for this poor little boy. He didn't have a chance. He wasn't going to get a chance to think about normal things. He was going to worry about how to keep his brother from figuring out about the evils of the world and how to fight off demons.

"Well ya don't gotta think about that until schools over for the summer, let's just focus on school work for now."

"I guess," Dean sighed. "But this is stupid. I like the stuff that we do about the past, like Indians and war. Did you know that one time a long time ago before cars a bunch of people got really mad and taked a bunch of tea and just thowed it in the ocean?"

"Yes I did."

"And one time a guy rode a horse all over the country because there wasn't phones? And another time, this one guy he stood in the rain and caught lightnin' in a jar and that's why we gots lights and stuff. And one time a bunch of people lived on a boat and then they climbed onto a rock and that's why we have Thanksgiving."

Bobby nodded. "Sort of."

"That's kinda awesome," Dean said. "And not stupid like clouds. Clouds are stupid."

"All of its important Buddy," Bobby said. "Just some of it's not as excitin'. Let me see the worksheet. I'll help ya out."

Dean handed Bobby the worksheet reluctantly, he wasn't good at asking for help.

"I'm supposta do it myself, I didn't wanna ask questions in class, cuz I didn't want Miss Sherry to think I was stupid."

"No one's gonna think your stupid cuz you asked a question."

Dean shrugged. "Everybody else understood what Miss Sherry was talking about. I feeled stupid. I don't really like it when I feeled stupid."

Bobby smiled sadly. "You're not stupid. I'll help you out. But remember that you're not stupid, and Miss Sherry isn't gonna think you're stupid. No matter what you ask."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean's last day of first grade was field day at Sioux Falls Elementary, which mean that the kids got to play outside all day. They played capture the flag and freeze tag and everyone's favorite gym games all day. Dean was a little bit upset that he wouldn't see Miss Sherry again. Dad told him that they'd be packing up and leaving as soon as he got home from school that day. Before it was time to leave for the summer, while everyone else was having a last go on the playground, Dean found is way over to where his teacher was sitting in a lawn chair with a couple other teachers watching.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Miss Sherry asked, leaning forward.

Dean nodded, pulling at the sleeves of his well-worn plastic fireman jacket. "I just wanna talk to you. Cuz my Dad says that we're moving away and I won't live here no more, so you won't be my teacher."

"Oh," Miss Sherry smiled looking over to her fellow teachers as if to say, "This is that curious Winchester boy."

"Dad says that we can't stay here no more cuz he's getting restless and its better if we keep moving, and he didn't like staying in one place so long." Dean said. "I told Uncle Bobby that I liked it here, but Uncle Bobby says I have to do what my dad says cuz he makes the rules."

"Okay," Miss Sherry said, confused.

"Well," Dean took a deep breath. "You was the only one that was nice to me for a long time at school, and I'll be real sad when I don't get to see you no more. Cuz you didn't think I was dumb when I didn't know the answer and cuz you're my best friend asides Sam. And I'm really happy that you made me stay at school even when I say-ed I didn't wanna stay. I think I'm gonna kept doing school next year, where ever Daddy decides we're gonna live."

"Oh, Sweetie," Miss Sherry said sliding out of her chair and pulling Dean into a tight hug. "I'll miss you too. Why don't you go play until the buses get here?"

Dean smiled and nodded, helmet bobbing on his head, then turned and ran back toward the slide.

"Too precious," One of the other teachers said watching him run off.

"You ever have that student you just want to take home and protect?" Miss Sherry asked.

"Mary-Ellen," the other teacher sighed. "We can only do so much. He'll be fine."

"I don't know," Miss Sherry said. "That poor little boy, I wish I could do more. Save him. I mean, I told y'all about meeting his father, how abrasive he was to me asking simple questions, then came in that next Monday with the black eye. Kid comes in with bruises on his arms all the time, but he says they're from rough housin' with his little brother, who's two. The more I talk to him the more he talks about how he takes care of his brother because his Dad's busy. I just want to fix him. Told me he's in charge of making sure he eats dinner and has a snack, even if he's at school, like the has to get it ready so their Dad won't forget. It's, I don't know, I just wanna save him."

"We can't," the other teacher sighed. "We can only make sure he's safe here, and from the sounds of what he just said, you did that. That little boy loves you. Maybe that's enough."

"I doubt it," Miss Sherry stated. "Not if he's not here for someone to watch over him. The Uncle Bobby he talks about seems to be a protector, but his Dad's taking them away from him too. I'm worried."

"It's not our business," The other teacher said. "We can't do anything about anything that happens outside these walls."

"I know," Miss Sherry sighed. "Doesn't mean I don't wish I could fix it."

"You'll have students like that every year. You'll learn. It's only your second class. You'll find kids in much worse situations than that boy, I promise you. Some of the kids I've seen, he's pretty damn normal, well-adjusted considering."

"Better than he was on the first day, anyway," Miss Sherry agreed.

"Then you did your job Mary-Ellen. You can't kick yourself about should haves when you can't fix it."

"Dean always talks about building a time machine," Miss Sherry smiled. "Thinks he can fix the wrongs of the world if he was like Marty McFly, go back and save his mom, make sure no one is sad anymore. Maybe it's not such a bad idea."

On the bus Dean sat in the front seat like always, waving to Miss Sherry with a sad smile on his face as the bus pulled away. He held in his tears the best he could, because only babies cry, but that night, while Dad packed up the Impala because they were leaving in the morning, Dean cried as quietly as he could into his pillow.

* * *

"Deans," Sam whispered from across the room. "Is you sad?"

Maybe he wasn't as quiet as he thought.

"No, Sammy go back to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow."

"Why is you sad?" Sam asked. "Is you sad a cuz we has to go away from Uncle Bobby. A cuz I ask-ed Uncle Bobby if I was never seeing him again and he said he'd see me all the time."

"I'm not sad Sam, go to sleep."

"Deans," Sam whispered, his voice sounding much closer that before. "If you sad, I make you happy. Like when I falled cut my knee."

Dean rolled over to see Sam's face way to close to his own.

"Here," Sam said pressing something soft and kind of sticky into Dean's face. "Hold Cow, he protects me in the night time from scary things." He pressed the stuffed cow John has found at that yard sale the Christmas after Mary died into Dean's cheek.

"No Sammy," Dean mumbled. "Take your cow and go back to sleep before Dad comes in here and yells at us."

"I sleep in your bed with Cow," Sam said nodding. "So you don't be sad and I still has Cow."

"Fine," Dean said sliding over. "But if you kick me you're sleeping in your own bed."

Sam nodded quickly, and climbed up over Dean, pressing his face into Dean's side. "I like your bed better. You's warm."

* * *

The summer was endless miles of back roads and motels that probably weren't safe to leave a three and seven year olds in by themselves for a few hours let alone a few days. The boys were too little to notice, but John should have known better.

They were living in a cabin out in the woods in Alabama, one of John's contacts had a hunting cabin he was letting them live in, free rent was free rent, and it was better than some motel for a week or so. John wasn't on a case; he actually had time to spend with his boys. Sam was sound asleep on the thread bare couch in front of the television after crashing from an afternoon of too much candy because Dean hadn't learned to say "no" and Sammy had just learned how to perfect those puppy eyes when he said "please."

John set up a half dozen cans on the fence behind the house and handed Dean a sawed off shotgun that looked way too big in his hands.

"You wanna learn how to shoot Dean?" John said.

Dean nodded, the fire helmet sliding down his face.

"Then you're gonna hafta take that hat off so you can see."

Dean very reluctantly took it off and placed it on a low hanging branch next to him. "I get to have it back though, right? I can't be a fireman without it."

"Yeah," John said with little patience in his voice. "Now listen, you're gonna wanna line up the can in the sight." John demonstrated with his own gun. "Take a deep breath in, and then pull the trigger lowly as you breathe out." He fired and Dean watched the can on the end fly off the fence post. "Think you can do it?"

Dean nodded with his whole body. "I think so, Dad."

John moved the boy in front of him, helping him set up a good stance and held his arms at the right angle. "Go ahead."

Dean took a deep breath and lined up the next can, he watched as it flew off the fence, a big smile on his face. The next four were just as easy.

"Good Job, Buddy," John said rubbing his hair.

"I did good?" Dean smiled.

"Yeah, real good, Dean."

"Can we do some more?"

"Maybe after dinner," John smiled. "Let's go see if Sammy's woken up."

Dean looked up at his Dad, trying to remember the last time he saw him smile like that; it was probably before his mom went away. He'd never forget that smile; never stop trying to duplicate it.

* * *

"Deans," Sam said on one ridiculously hot July day in Northern Texas. "How come you don't do numbers no more?"

"What?" Dean said, looking up from Batman comic book.

"You's don't do the number," Sam said. "We leave-ed Uncle Bobby's and you don't do numbers. Member, you teach-ed me?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean answered. "School's over for now, so I don't have homework to do."

"So you can't teach-ed me?" Sam said rolling a one of Dean's matchbox cars along the dresser.

"Come here," Dean said, grabbing Sam around the waist and pulling him up on to the bed with him. "What do you wanna learn?"

"Everythin'." Sam said driving the car down Dean's arm. "I wanna be smart like you."

"I'm not that smart Sammy," Dean blushed.

Sammy nodded. "You's the smartest. Cuz you knows number and you can say words in books. I wanna teach-ed books, Deans."

"You want to learn to read?"

Sam nodded. "Learn books."

"Okay," Dean said. "Next time Dad brings us to the library I'll find some books for you to learn. I can teach you to write letters if you want. You can learn to spell your name."

"I knows how to spell my name Deans," Sam said. "S-A-M. Sammy."

"Close enough," Dean laughed. "But I can teach you to write it. And my name too, and Dad's and Uncle Bobby's."

"You know-ed all that?" Sam said, rolling his car down Dean's legs. "Did the pretty lady at school teach you?"

Dean smiled at the back of his little brother's head. "No, I learned it before school, when I was little like you."

"From Daddy? He learned you?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean said softly remember laying out on the living room floor of his old house with his mom while she taught him the alphabet using blocks that Sammy never got to play with.

"Uncle Bobby?" Sam said turning to look at Dean. "I was gonna ask him to learn me things but I didn't think he wanted to cuz he has to answer the phone all the time. And cuz you always teached me everything."

"No," Dean shook his head.

"We don't knows nobody else, Dean," Sam said seriously.

"Mom," Dean said softly. "Our mom taught me, when you was still in her belly. We made pictures for you room and stuff and I learned to write the letters and read."

"I don't knowed her," Sam said shaking his head. "Does Daddy knows her? Maybe she can learn me letters."

"Yeah, Daddy knew her." Dean breathed. "But she went away, Sammy. She can't teach you nothing now."

"Where did she go?" Sam asked.

"Just away," Dean sighed. "Look, if you don't tell Dad I told you about her, I'll try to teach you to write and read books."

"Okay," Sam nodded, taking his hand and zipping his lips. "I's go anofer question."

"What Sammy?" Dean laughed.

"Does I gets to go to school one day when I'm big?"

"Someday," Dean answered. "Not for a while, though."

"I wanna go to school," Sam sighed. "And I'll be really smart like you, but I wanna be smart afore I got to school so everyone will like me. And then I tell them that my big brother teached me everything for school. Then everyone will like you too, and no one will be mad and sad at you no more."

"You wanna color, Sam?" Dean asked leaning back to grab the coloring book off the night stand between the beds. "You can get the crayons from the duffle bag."

"Okay," Sam said, sliding off the bed. "But I think I colored all the dragons in that book."

"You can color something else," Dean suggested, thumbing through the coloring book he'd stolen from a Kmart when Dad refused to buy it for Sam when they went in to buy shoes. Sam started crying when Dad said no. Dean couldn't handle when Sammy cried.

Sam shook his head quickly. "I like dragons."

"Why?" Dean asked as Sam dug through the duffle bag they shared to find the twenty-four pack of Crayola's.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "I has dreams about them. They breathe fire. Sometimes Daddy's in my dream. I's sleeping and then the dragon comes, and then Daddy yells and then you is there and then I wake up."

"Is it a scary dream?" Dean asked. He remembered Dad telling him about the night their mother died and what he remember himself about that night. To him Sam's dream sounded just like that, but Sam was just a baby then. He couldn't remember it.

"Only some times," Sam said climbing back onto the bed. "Most the time, when I wake up I's just sad. It's sad dream. Not like the monster dreams. Them is scary. When I has the scary dream I go to your bed. I don't need to go to your bed when I has the dragon dream. I just hold Cow 'til I not sad no more and go to sleep again."

Dean nodded and helped Sammy find a comfortable place to sit on the bed.

"Does you like dragons Dean?" Sam asked.

"Not as much as you Sammy," Dean said. "I think you like them more than anyone."


	9. Chapter 9

Before Christmas of second grade, Dean had already been in three different schools, starting the fourth in Gary, Indiana. His first day there wasn't too bad; schools were starting to look the same to him. The teachers were never as great as Miss Sherry, they didn't take the same kind of interest in him that she did, and he hadn't stayed at any of these schools long enough for anyone to find out he didn't have a mom, or a real house.

He came in to the little one bed room apartment they were staying in after his first day to see Sam standing on the sofa screaming his little head off and their dad in the recliner trying hard not to laugh and sipping beer.

"You ruined my whole life!" Sam yelled. "I am mad and sad!"

"It'll be okay Sammy," John sighed. "I'll get you a new one."

"I don't want a new one!" Sam screeched.

"What's going on?" Dean asked closing the door behind him.

"Daddy ruined my whole life, Deans!" Sam explained. "Now I am mad and sad."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I got that part." He placed his book bag on the kitchen table and walked over to his brother helping him down off the couch. "How?"

"Daddy losed Cow," Sam huffed, throwing his arms in the air dramatically. "Now I can never sleep again because I can only sleep when I has Cow to cuddle."

"You can cuddle me until we figure it out, okay?" Dean soothed.

"No!" Sam yelled. "You is not as soft and cuddly as Cow. I want my Cow back."

"It was an accident, Sammy," John sighed. "We'll fix it."

"It will be okay," Dean pulled Sam close into a hug and ran his fingers through is hair; then turned to his dad "Are you gonna get him a new one?"

"Do not talk to him!" Sam yelled, pushing Dean away. "He ruined my whole life!" Sam pushed past Dean and padded in his stocking feet to the single bedroom of the apartment he was sharing with Dean and slammed the door with as much authority as a three year old could.

"It just got left behind in the move," John shrugged. "We lose stuff every time. If he wanted to keep it he should have kept it in his duffle bag. It's simple."

"He's three, Dad," Dean sighed. "He can barely keep track of the pants he's wearing."

"Don't sass me," John hissed. "You know better."

"You made Sam cry," Dean spat back.

"Do not talk back to me," John growled standing up from the chair quickly, making Dean flinch. "I'm going to the store. I'll bring back something for dinner. Fix your fucking brother while I'm gone."

"Yes sir," Dean said to the floor as John pushed past him fishing for his keys in the pocket of leather jacket.

* * *

Dean went into his bedroom to find this little brother sobbing into Dean's pillow.

"Sammy," Dean said softly sitting next to him on the bed, rubbing small circles into his back, like he remembered his mom doing for him when he was upset. "Everything's going to be fine."

"No it is not!" Sam yelled, voice muffled by the pillow. "Cow was my bestest friend asides you. I telled Cow everything, and now Cow is gone. Daddy just left him somewheres. Now I never see Cow again."

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean said softly. "It was an accident. Things like this happen when cuz we move all the time."

"What if it was your fire truck?" Sam said rolling over to his back, his face streaked with tears. "What if Daddy leaved _me_ next time?"

"Dad's not gonna forget you," Dean sighed. "You're too important."

"Cow important to me!" Sam pouted. "Cow the most important. And Daddy just leaved him. He's probably scared and all alone and I can't protect Cow like you protect me cuz I don't know where Cow is and he's probably really, really, really scared."

"He'll be fine," Dean nodded. "Maybe another little boy with find him. Then Cow can protect that guy and be his friend."

"I don't want that," Sam sniffled. "I want Cow to be my friend forever."

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly. "But you still have me. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be your friend forever. You can't get rid of me if you tried. Nothing's gonna keep me away from you, ever."

"You promise?" Sam said.

"I promise," Dean nodded.

"Deans?" Sam whispered. "Can I really sleep in your bed until Daddy gets me a new Cow?"

"If I said no would you listen to me?" Dean smiled.

Sam shook his head. "I sleep in your bed anyway."

"Then I guess I can't say no, can I?" Dean chuckled.

"Nope," Sam pouted. "You can't get rid of me either."

Dean kissed Sam on the cheek and climbed over him sit next to him on bed. Sam would be okay eventually. Dad would probably forget to pick up a stuffed animal at the store. He probably wasn't even going to a store where they sold stuffed animals. Dean thought about whether or not they had food in the house, because Dad would probably forget that he told Dean he'd bring home dinner too. He did that sometimes when get too mad at them, come home and go to sleep and sleep most of the next day, telling Dean he had a headache and to watch Sam. It wasn't a routine he liked, but it was the only one his broken little family had.

* * *

The heat didn't work very well in the apartment they were renting, and Dean over heard his Dad telling someone on the phone that he wasn't sure if he'd have enough money to pay the rent the next month. Dean made sure that Sam never heard anything about the struggles. He's skip meals to make sure that Sam had enough to eat when Dad was away. He made sure that Sam didn't know about what their dad did, and if he had his way, Sammy never would. When it got real cold he'd let Sammy sleep in his bed, even though he knew his dad thought that Sam was too big to do so. He had to make sure that Sam never found out that there was anything bad out there. Dean knew how important his dad's work was, but Sammy didn't need to know about that. Sammy deserved to be a kid.

Sam was wrapped in a blanket on the floor coloring in a coloring book while Dean read about the solar system in his science text book. He'd told his little brother they were going to play in a blanket fort that day. It was the best way to keep Sam from complaining he was cold and occupied at the same time. He'd become quite the caretaker for an eight year old.

"Hey Dean," Sam said not looking up.

"What?"

"Who's that lady?"

Dean looked around the empty room. "What lady?"

"The one in the doorway," Sam said, putting down a red crayon and picking up a blue one.

"There's no one in the doorway, Sammy," Dean said confused.

"Yeah-huh," Sam said looking over to his brother. "The pretty lady with the yellow hair and the dress."

"There's no one there," Dean repeated. "What are you talking about?"

Sam looked back over to the open doorway, then back to Dean.

"She's gone now," He stated and went back to coloring. "I'm hungry."

"Okay," Dean said confused. "I'll go see what Dad has planned for dinner."

* * *

Later that night, Sam was playing with John's wallet on the floor in front of where Dean watched television while Dad was writing in his journal at the kitchen table.

Sam stood up all of a sudden and shoved something into Dean's face. "Who's this?"

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and pulled it down to a less directly in his face angle. John had what looked like their mom's senior picture inside his wallet next to Dean's first grade school photo.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"That's the lady!" Sam said excitedly. "That's the lady I seed in our room. I seed her in our room all the time."

"No you didn't," Dean argued, prying the wallet out of his brother's hand. "Why are you playing with Dad's wallet anyway?"

"I seed her Deans," Sam said seriously.

"Sammy," Dean said trying to keep his voice even, trying not to get angry at his little brother. "You couldn't have seen her. She's in Heaven with the angels."

"No Deans!" Sam yelled. "I did!"

"Boys!" John boomed from the kitchen. "Knock it off."

"I's gonna ask Daddy," Sam said sticking his tongue out and taking the wallet back from Dean, before running into the kitchen.

"Sam, no!" Dean said quickly, getting up and chasing after his brother. "Don't."

"Daddy?" Sam said sliding up between his dad and the table so he was practically in John's lap. "Who's this lady?"

Dean let out a slow breath. He knew what his dad did to ghost. He knew that even if the ghost of his mom was watching Sam that Dad would try to get rid of her. That was his job after all. If Sammy was really seeing their mom watching over them Dean didn't want her to go away.

"Why?" John asked with little patience in his voice.

"A cuz I seed her in my room," Sam said matter of factually.

"Dean," John said turning to look at the older boy, who was leaning against the doorframe between the living room and kitchen. "Is that true?"

"I didn't see nothin'," Dean answered, shrugging noncommittally.

"I seed her!" Sam yelled. "I knowed I did! I's not lyin'. Why does no one believe me?"

John didn't take his eyes off Dean as he tried to explain to Sam. "You didn't see her, Sammy."

"But I knows it," Sam insisted.

"Why don't you get Sam ready for bed, Dean?"

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled. He took Sam's hand and pulled him to the bathroom.

* * *

Sam looked up at Dean while he started the water for a bath with tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Why no one believe me?"

"Can I tell you a secret?" Dean whispered. "I believe you. Just don't tell Dad."

Sam nodded and held his arms over his head so Dean could take off his shirt.

"You can't talk about her around Dad," Dean continued. "She'll just be our secret. I'll tell you as much as I can about her. I don't remember much, but I'll try."

"Does Daddy not like her?"

"She makes Dad sad," Dean explained. "Daddy loved her more than anything and then she went away so he's really sad."

"Like when Daddy lost Cow?" Sam said. "Daddy's that sad."

"Yeah, just like that," Dean nodded. "Remember how sad you were? Dad gets even sadder when you talk about her, that's why it has to be a secret. Okay?"

"Okay," Sam whispered back. "I think I can do that. But who is her?"

"Someone real special," Dean answered turning on the tap. "You'd like her."

* * *

That night while he was sleeping, Dean felt a familiar poking against his arm.

"Deans," Sam whispered. "Deans… Deans… Dean… De… Deans…"

"What," Dean groaned. "I'm sleeping."

"Need you," Sam said poking more.

"What's wrong Sammy?" Dean said sleepily. "It's two in the morning and I got school in the morning."

"The lady," Sam whispered. "She's looking at me. I don't like it. I wanna sleep in your bed."

"Sleep in our own bed," Dean sighed. "You'll be fine."

"Na-huh," Sam said stomping his foot with as much authority as a three year old could have. "You's say-ed I could sleep in your bed when I's scared. Now I's scared."

"Whatever," Dean sighed sliding over. "Don't kick me."

"Thank you Deans," Sam said climbing up into the bed and burying his face into his big brother's armpit. "She keeps watching me. It's weird."

"Where is she now?" Dean asked.

"At the end of the bed," Sam explained, behind him pointing into the darkness. "She's still looking at me."

"She's not gonna hurt you," Dean said drowsily. "She loves you, making sure you're safe."

"Oh," Sam said. "Well, it's still weird."

"She did it when you was a baby," Dean said as he started to fall asleep again. "Just watch you sleep, make sure you were still breathing and stuff."

"Oh," Sam said softly. "Maybe it's not too weird."

Dean listened to Sam's breathing even out against his chest, worrying about his brother and looking around the room for woman he claimed to see. Maybe Dean couldn't see her because she was still mad at him from not doing his best to save her. Sam wasn't old enough to remember her, had to ask who she was. Dean missed her more, Dean knew what was missing, Sam, Sam had no idea. Another unfair piece of life for the eight year old. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair, testing to see if he was awake before he started whispering into the dark.

"Mom…" he said as quietly as he could. "Mommy... It's Dean. I wanna see you too. It's not fair that only Sammy sees you. Me and Daddy miss you the most. Sammy doesn't understand. Next time you come to see Sammy, can I see you too? I'm sorry I didn't do better. I wish all the time on eyelashes and in wishin' wells and on my birthday cake that you'd come back. I even tried to get a time machine one time to fix it, but Daddy said no. I'm gonna go to sleep now, but think about it please. I wanna see you too." Dean rolled a little so he was cuddling up with Sam to keep him warm and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd get to tell his mom he was sorry, that he didn't mean to make her go away. Maybe she'd come back to them if she knew how sorry he was.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean started to struggle with school about around school fifth of second grade. He figured that school was just getting harder, second grade wasn't exactly first grade, and his new teachers weren't like Miss Sherry at all. He didn't have Bobby around to help him when things got really hard like the year before and his dad was just too busy to sit down and help Dean understand a story meant for second graders to comprehend he had bigger problems to worry about.

It wasn't that Dean wasn't smart, most of the time he knew the answers, it was just writing then down that difficult. He could never figure out what part of a story came first and spelling test, he'd had to have his dad sign more failed spelling test than he could remember. Each one of his teachers had commented about his practically illegible handwriting and no matter how many times they made him write lines, it never got any better. Books were starting to get harder too. Not the books he read to Sam, those were the same books his mom used to read to him, he knew them by heart. He taught Sam to read them just like his mom taught him, taught him how to write like she taught him too. Sam picked it up a lot faster than Dean did, but Dean just figured that Sam was way smarter than he ever could be.

The longer he was in second grade, the more he felt like he was probably the dumbest second grader of all time. How he'd ever make it to third grade was a problem he let eat at him all that summer as their dad tried to find a place to situate them for a while. The boys spent a few weeks with Bobby that summer, but Dean was so afraid that Bobby would tell him he was actually as dumb as he thought he was he didn't say anything.

Dean started third grade, and Sam Pre School, in Minnesota. Dad promised that they would stay in Minnesota until Christmas. Dean doubted it; he couldn't remember the last time Dad kept a promise. For someone who constantly told Dean it was wrong to lie, he sure did a lot of it himself.

Dean's teacher for now, Mrs. Bergeron, wanted him to take a special test, Dean figured it was a test to prove he was actually stupid because he was so far behind in school and hadn't learned how to use an old fashioned clock yet and couldn't get the hang of the poems they were writing and reading in English.

Dean sat in a booth in the diner that had become their usual dinner on Fridays around the corner from the duplex they were staying at staring at the table while they waited for drinks to arrive.

"My school has the biggest slide in the world!" Sam said excitedly wiggling in the booster seat he was in so he could see over the table. "It's so high that it goes all the way to sky."

"I don't think it does, Sam," John answered.

"Yeah-huh, Daddy," Sam smiled. "I go-ed up it all the way to the top, and there was a cloud. I licked it."

Dean turned to look as Sam who was nodding excitedly.

"You licked a cloud?" Dean laughed.

"Yeah," Sam said eyes wide. "It tasted like cloud. I think-ed it would taste like cotton candy cuz I had it that time one when Pastor Jim taked us to the fair, but it didn't."

"You didn't lick a cloud, Sam," John sighed.

Sam leaned over to Dean and whispered into his ear, "Did too."

"You're quiet today, Dean," John said. "What's going on?"

"Nothin'," Dean mumbled. "School's okay. It's not too bad yet. The kids are okay, teacher's nice, I guess. I can get used to it."

"Good," John smiled as the drinks arrived, a beer for John, a big strawberry milk shake for Dean and small glass of milk for Sam. "So looks like it will be a good year then?"

"Teacher gave me some papers for you to sign," Dean said softly. "I think they say that I'm stupid, but I don't know. She said she wanted me to take some tests but that you had to sign the papers first cuz I'd have to miss class. They're in my back pack."

"You're not stupid Dean," John sighed. "Don't talk like that."

"I gots a friend at school!" Sam said. "She likes me cuz Dean teach-ed me how to write letters, and I can make the "S's" the right way. Not like Simon, he maked them backward. My friend lets me use her crayons. Her name is Mandy."

"Sammy's got a girlfriend?" John laughed looking over at Dean over his beer as he took a drink. Dean smiled and looked down at the table. "What about you, Buddy?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't really have a friend yet."

"Maybe you should play a sport?" John suggested. "That's a good way to make friends."

Dean shrugged, and pulled his milkshake close. "If you want me too."

"You can't just have no friends," John said. "Even Sam has friends. If I knew you were just going to mope around and not try I would have fought harder with Bobby to just home school ya."

"It's hard when we move around so much," Dean complained. "I mean, I understand that we got to because of the job, but it's hard to have friends when you know you're only gonna be around for a couple months."

"Dean," John said sternly, "Stop moping. You know what's going on. Sam's learned to deal with it."

"Sam's four," Dean replied. "He doesn't know better."

"Don't talk back, Dean."

"Yes, sir," Dean said to the table as the waitress delivered their food.

"On Monday, we's gonna have art class!" Sam said excitedly as John cut his grilled cheese into small pieces. "I's gonna show Mandy how to draw dragons. I bet she like them."

"That's good, Sam," Dean said fluffing this little brother's hair. "You do draw the best dragons."

They ate while Sam went on about his school and his friend. Dean felt a little swell of pride that he had taught Sam how to write and read before he started school; that this made Sammy one of the smartest kids in the class, and therefore everyone liked him. Dean couldn't explain it, but he wanted to make sure that everything was always good for his baby brother.

* * *

Dean liked sitting in the back of the classroom, it made it easier for him to not pay attention; not that he didn't like school, he did, he just had a hard time keeping up, and he hated asking for help, because that made him feel more stupid. His dad had signed his paperwork for the special testing his teacher wanted done, two whole afternoons of seemingly random tests about things he wasn't even learning about in class. Later, his dad was coming after school to review the results. Dean was _not_ looking forward to that. He knew he'd be in trouble when he got home.

Mrs. Bergeron stood at the chalkboard showing everyone how to write in cursive. Dean was trying, but he couldn't read what he was writing when he did it Mrs. Bergeron's way. He liked writing the way him mom taught him, the way he taught Sam. It was easier. There was no way he'd ever get a good grade on a spelling test if he had to write like this forever.

"Dean," Mrs. Bergeron said voice thick with annoyance. "Are you paying attention, this is important."

Dean nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Why don't you come up here and try it on the board?"

Dean's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. "No, thank you."

"Dean," the teacher said. "Come up here. Everyone else will have a turn."

"I'd rather not," Dean answered. A few of his classmates snickered; Dean let a small smirk grow on his face.

"Stop joking around," Mrs. Bergeron sighed holding out a piece of chalk. "You're not getting out of this."

Dean sighed and slid out of his chair, this was stupid. He took the chalk from Mrs. Bergeron and looked up at her. "What do you want to me write?"

"Let's start with your name," Mrs. Bergeron smiled. "Surely you've been paying attention enough to know how to write your name in cursive."

Dean took a deep breath and placed the chalk to the board. He scribbled something that almost looked like his name is butchered cursive.

"Good," Mrs. Bergeron said. "Nice try, but the letters are all supposed to connect, like this." Mrs. Bergeron wrote Dean's name next to his on the board far better than he ever could.

He looked up at her and nodded. He felt like crying, like crawling under his desk and disappear. No one was laughing as he walked back to his seat in the back of the room, but he felt like they were. Mrs. Bergeron called other kids to the board, many making the same mistakes that Dean made. It didn't make him feel better. It was just one more thing that made him feel like he wasn't good enough.

His dad sat in a chair across from Mrs. Bergeron at her desk while Dean tried to keep Sammy occupied in the reading corner across the room. He was trying not to eavesdrop on what was being said as Mrs. Bergeron went over Dean's test results, but it was hard.

"Dean," Sammy said poking Dean in the side. "Does your school have blocks? My school has blocks. I wanna play blocks."

"We don't have any blocks, Sammy," Dean answered. "We don't have a lotta toys, just books. This is big boy school. You still go to little kid's school."

"Your school isn't as fun as my school," Sam declared. "We has blocks for building forts and stuff."

"We'll you can practice reading these books," Dean suggested. "You can be super awesome at school."

"Dean," John called from across the room, he didn't sound angry, just annoyed. "Come over here."

"Stay here," Dean said to his brother. "Don't break anything."

Dean came over to his Dad and his teacher, standing straight like his Dad taught him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were having trouble at school?" John asked.

Dean chewed on his lip and looked down at the teacher's desk.

"Dean," John said forcefully. "Look at me." Dean looked up slowly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to be mad," Dean mumbled. "I wanted you to think I was smart like Sam. I didn't want you to think I was dumb."

"No one thinks that, Dean," Mrs. Bergeron said. "Your dad and I want to help you do better in class. We want you to do better, but if you don't say anything when you don't understand the material I can't help you."

Dean looked between his teacher and his dad then back at the floor. He'd asked his dad for help with his homework all the time but his dad told him to do it himself. He'd done everything he could to try to be better at school but no one would help him. The only person who ever tried was Bobby, but when Bobby wasn't around there wasn't anyone willing to help. He knew he was stupid maybe Mrs. Bergeron didn't think so, but he knew his dad did. His dad would never be proud if he couldn't do well in school.

"I don't like asking questions," Dean mumbled.

"Speak up, Dean," John said. "Speak like you mean it."

"I don't like asking questions," Dean repeated clearly. "I don't want the kids to laugh at me."

"No one's gonna laugh at you because you ask a question," John sighed.

"You don't know," Dean said quickly. "You've never been in third grade. In Miss Sherry's class every time I asked a question that Julie girl would make fun of me. And in Kentucky last year I got picked on all the time for asking questions about math and reading and stuff. I told you about that one kid that use to call me retard all the time. Why would it be different here?"

"Dean," Mrs. Bergeron said sweetly. "If you that's what you're scared of, you can come to me after class, or during recess or during free time or any time."

"But the other kids are gonna know," Dean said. "I just want to be normal."

"Why didn't you say anything about having a hard time reading?" John said forcefully. "You read to Sam all the time, why didn't you say anything?"

Dean rocked back and forth and didn't answer.

"Answer me," John sighed.

"I just figured that third grade was too hard," Dean answered. "Just like everything else. The stuff I read to Sammy I've read a bunch of times I know what it says. Mom used to read it to me."

John sighed loudly.

"Mr. Winchester," Mrs. Bergeron said. "Dyslexia is a common learning disability. It's easy to learn to cope with it if Dean accepts the help. We just have to figure out a way to work with it. He's just having a hard time with reading and rhyming, the concept of time. He can get there. Dean is normal in every other aspect. He's a very smart little boy. If it wasn't for the dyslexia he'd be on grade level if not ahead of it. He's a good kid, he just needs help."

"So I'm not stupid?" Dean said, eyes wide looking between his father and teacher.

"No," Mrs. Bergeron said. "You're brain just doesn't work like everyone else's."

"What can I do?" John said, his voice growing annoyed. "To fix this."

"You can't really fix it," Mrs. Bergeron said. "We just have to work with it, it will take a while, but if Dean lets me I can help him."

"Okay, do what you gotta do," John said. "Make him if you have to. Is there anything else?"

"No, Mr. Winchester," Mrs. Bergeron said. "That covers my concerns with Dean. Thank you for meeting with me."

"Yeah," John said, standing. "Get your brother, let's get out of here."

Dean went and helped Sammy put away all the books he'd taken off the shelves, and took his hand. They followed their father out to the parking lot to the Impala. He strapped Sammy in while his dad got into the front. Dean did his own seatbelt and waited for his dad to start driving. He knew he was going to get yelled at when he got home. Mrs. Bergeron may have told him that he wasn't stupid, but there was no way he'd let Dean get away without having words with him.

* * *

When they got back to the duplex, Dean sat down at the kitchen, expecting his dad to want to have a serious talk with him, but instead, John followed Sammy into the living room.

"Dean is you coming to play?" Sammy yelled from the next room. "I gonna build a big fort for my army men so you can't kill them all."

Dean made his way slowly into the living room, looking at his dad as he walked by, just waiting. He said down on the floor across from Sam and started to build his own fort.

"Are you gonna wait until Sammy goes to sleep to be mad at me?" Dean asked as the silence form his Dad started to weigh on him.

"I'm not mad at you Dean," John answered. "There's nothing I can do to fix it. It's all on you. If you work with Mrs. Bergeron and do what she says you'll do better. I can't make you do anything. I'm not mad at ya, just disappointed that you didn't tell me you were having trouble."

"I asked you for help," Dean said. "But you told me I had to do it myself, so I just gave up. I didn't want to bother you with school stuff."

"You're not bothering me, Dean," John answered. "You're never bothering me. But if you take the training I give you like you treat school. I'll be mad. You know how important that is. I should have listened, okay. If you have a hard time at school you can ask me. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Dean nodded turning back to Sam. "I'll do better. I can do better. I'll make you proud be of me. I'll be the smartest kid in class. And then I'll be the bestest hunter. Uncle Bobby says that doing good at school will help me be a good hunter."

"Bobby's a good man," John said. "Just do your best kidd-o. That's all I can ask, alright."

Dean nodded. "I will Daddy."

* * *

Dean struggled with his new reading assignment at the kitchen table less than week later.

"Dad?" Dean asked. "Can you help me?"

"With what?" John said turning from the TV.

"Umm, well," Dean started. "We have to do a book report on Treasure Island, but I don't really understand it."

"I'm not doing your homework for you," John sighed.

"No," Dean corrected. "I just need some help answering the questions. I don't understand what they're asking."

"Did you read the book?" John asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

"Then the questions shouldn't be hard," John replied. "I thought your teacher said you weren't stupid."

Dean shifted in his chair a little. He wasn't stupid, he knew it. Mrs. Bergeron told him that if he needed help with the questions he could ask his dad, but that wasn't working. He was either going to get all the questions wrong or not even bother doing it. Either way he was going to fail.

"But I need help," Dean protested. "You said that if I asked for help you'd help me. I tried to do this, but I don't know how. I've never done it before and I just want someone to help me."

"Dean," John sighed.

"No," Dean basically yelled. "I just want you to explain it. I think I can answer the questions if you explain it. I don't want you to do my homework. I just want a little help."

"Do not speak to me like that," John said finally standing up. "Don't _ever_ speak to me like that."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, trying not to cry.

"When I met with your teacher I said I would help you," John yelled. "I did not say I would sit next to you and hold your hand and make sure you didn't fuck everything up."

Dean drew in a ragged breath to keep the tears from falling.

"It's not my fault you can't read," John yelled. "Maybe you should have helped yourself when you realized you had a problem."

"I tried," Dean said to the table watching little puddles start to form in front of him. "I tried really hard. I answered two questions! But I don't know what the other questions mean. It's too hard."

"You can't figure this out?" John shook the paper at Dean. "You can't figure out what happened in a book you just read? You can't write down the main characters? Sam could do this, Dean. Why don't you ask him for help next time? Stop fucking crying."

"It's too hard," Dean said trying to breathe normal, stop the tears. "Mrs. Bergeron sometimes just sits with me and says the questions again and sometimes I understand it better. I just want some help. Just a little. You said you'd help me if I asked for help."

John pulled the chair next to Dean out loudly and sat down. "I did say I'd help," he sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just say the questions out loud," Dean said quietly. "Just sometimes if I heard them it makes more sense than if I read it. I know what it says, I can read, it's just easier hearing it."

"You can't read it out loud to yourself?"

Dean shook his head. "That doesn't help any. Sometimes it's more confusing."

"Alright then," John ran his hand down his face and let out a slow breath. "Let's do this."

"Thank you, sir," Dean nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

John took Dean on his first hunt during Christmas break before he turned nine. He was hunting something that Dean couldn't remember the name of but John said he needed Dean's help and Dean was getting better at shooting the cans off the back fence every time Dad let him. There were no words for how excited Dean was to be asked to come along. John dropped Sammy off at a friend's in Colorado, Daniel, Dean thought he name was. Then John and Dean set off together in the Impala, heading east. Dean spent most of the time looking out the window, fire helmet pressed up against the window, watching the world fly by while classic rock station after classic rock station tuned in and out on the stereo. John wasn't much of a talker, and Dean always felt like he was bothering his Dad if he asked him too many questions, so they fell into a comfortable silence that neither seemed to mind.

"Are you doing better in school?" John asked along a long empty stretch or Midwest.

"Not really," Dean shrugged. "I'm trying, and I told my new teacher about what Mrs. Bergeron in Maryland said about me having the Dyslexia, but I don't want to be annoying so I just do what I can. I'm not doing bad at school though. I have C's."

"As long as you're doing you best," John nodded. "What about Sam?"

"Sammy doesn't like this school as much as the old school," Dean explained. "I think he just misses his friend Mandy. But he'll make new friends. He's a good kid. He'll get over it. He's really smart. The other kids will like him."

"Well," John said, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to turn to Dean, "You did a good job teaching him to read. I'm very proud of you for helping."

Dean smiled to himself. Nothing made him happier than hearing his Dad was proud.

"I got another question for ya, buddy," John continued. "Don't ya think it's time that you stopped wearing that helmet? Getting a little small for ya."

"I like it," Dean said defensively. "The jacket got too small so I stopped wearing it, but I don't want to stop wearing the helmet. I still want to be a fireman someday."

"I get that, Sport," John said. "But don't the other kids at school say things about it? I know you don't like when the kids make fun you."

"No one says anything about it," Dean answered. "I don't wear it at school much anymore. I wouldn't feel like me if I didn't have it, you know. Like you wouldn't look like Dad without your jacket, and how Uncle Bobby looks weird without his hat."

John sighed, falling back into that comfortable silence.

* * *

When they crossed into Nebraska, John started to quiz Dean on what was going to happen when they got there.

"You remember what I told you?"

"I'm supposed to go to a tree that you show me when it gets dark and pretend that I'm lost," Dean said. "Then I wait for the thingy to come and try to eat me and I yell. Then you get me."

"Very good." John said.

"And if the thingy gets too close, then I get to use the gun that you gave me," Dean smiled. "But only if I don't hear you coming for me and it gets really, _really_ close."

"What else?"

"Don't close my eyes," Dean said. "No matter what. No matter how scared I get, never ever close my eyes. Make sure I keep watch. That's the most important job I have this weekend."

"I think you got it," John said, swelling with pride in his little boy. He knew he wasn't doing exactly what Mary would want, she'd never want this life for her boys, but he was doing everything he could without them. Dean was growing up just fine. He was going to make his Dad real proud one day.

* * *

The woods were a lot darker than Dean thought they would be. It wasn't that Dean was afraid of the dark, he was almost nine, being afraid of the dark was for babies like Sam. It just was really creepy in the woods at night, and Dad said he couldn't have flashlight because it was too dangerous. He wasn't really sure he was supposed see the stupid swamp thing in the dark in the woods, but he wanted to make his dad proud. That was the most important.

Dean tried to watch from all angles, not sure where the thing, the swamp monster, whatever his dad had called it was coming from. He leaned up against the predetermined tree, and waited.

"Dad?" He called out into the darkness just like they planned. "Where are you?"

Dean knew that John was just a couple hundred yards away, well within earshot, but he didn't answer, all a part of the plan. Dean took a deep breath, slowly out his nose and then he saw it.

It was huge, taller than anything he'd ever seen, way taller than his dad. I was covered with scales and seaweed like looking stuff and smelled worse than when Dean forgot to bring the trash to the curb in Texas over the summer.

"Dad!" Dean yelled. "Dad, I'm really scared." This was supposed to be part of the plan, but sweet lord was he terrified. In that moment, waiting to see the eyes of the monster so he could yell the code word, he decided that Sammy would never, ever know about what their dad did for work. Sam was never going to be part of this. He would never be this scared. Sammy didn't have to do anything like this to make Dean be proud of him. Dean would be proud of Sam no matter what he did. He'd never, ever be in the dark woods watching a horrible monster approach him. Sam was going to get the childhood Dean never got, if it killed him.

"Dad!" Dean called out again. "Is that you?"

Dean took a step toward the creature, showing his Dad where it was in case he couldn't see.

"Dad, I need you, I'm scared!"

The creature took a step closer to Dean. He could feel the hot breathe of it on his face, see it's yellow teeth right before he saw the blast of the shotgun.

Dean was still shaking when John patted him on the back.

"Good job kidd-o," Dean could hear the smile in his dad's voice. "Real good job."

They walked back to the car, John's hand never leaving Dean's back. Dean imagined the smile on his father's face, that same smile he had the first time they went shooting. Dean would gladly stand in the dark for hours walking for something to get close enough to eat him every day if it meant he could make his dad smile like that.

Dean smiled like that at Sammy all the time. He needed to make sure that Sammy never felt unloved or not good enough. He was gonna give Sammy everything. Everything he wanted his dad to give to him. No matter what. He'd move heaven and earth for that kid. Somehow he felt like that would be what their mom wanted; for her boys to be best friends, for Dean to take care of Sammy. He was gonna make her proud too. Her up in heaven and Daddy right there next to him. Dean was gonna make both of them real proud.

* * *

When they got back, John took the boys to Bobby's for Christmas. It had been a while since they'd seen him, and it just felt right spending the holidays with Bobby before finding a new place to enroll the boys in school. Dean secretly hoped that they'd get to stay in Sioux Falls for a while, so he'd get to see Miss Sherry again. But he doubted his Dad would let them.

During that week off, Bobby and John found a simple hunt to do not too far off, a two man job, but easily a one day job, so they left Dean in charge to make sure nothing happened to Sammy while they were gone.

"You hide and I seek you!" Sam explained excitedly, like Dean had never played hide and seek before. "You gots to hide really really good, a cuz the person that hides the best wins. I count." Sam nodded and covered his eyes with his hands and started to count. Dean wasn't sure how high Sam could count so he took off, hiding in Bobby's coat closet underneath a bunch of stuff on the floor.

After a couple minutes Sammy went running by "I seek!" He called in the echoing house. "Deans! You hided too good."

Dean giggled to himself, as he watched Sam go by a few times through a crack in the door.

"Deans?" Sam called. "Deans!?" Sam's voice started to sound scared. "Deans, I don't like this game no more."

Dean pushed the door open a little more so that maybe Sammy would figure it out.

"Dean?" Sam walked by the closet again, and then went upstairs. "Deans!?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"I'm down stairs Sammy," Dean called from the closet. "You can find me, I'm sure of it."

Dean heard Sam pad down the stairs again. The closet was almost completely open now. So Sam finally figured it out.

"I seeked!" Sam yelled jumping onto Dean. "I seeked you! I win!"

"You only win if you hide better than I did." Dean said. "That's what you said the rules were."

"You hided really good," Sam said. "I think we should just say I win. I change rules."

Dean laughed. "You can't just change the rules in the middle. I bet you can hide better than me."

"You find me really fast and I lose," Sam said pouting. "I wanna win."

"Then hide really good," Dean said. "I'm goin' to the kitchen to count. You hide, okay."

"Okay!" Sam yelled turning and running up the stairs.

Dean knew exactly where Sam was going to hide, in John's room in his duffle bag. Sam was the perfect size to fit inside it. He climbed in there all time for no reason. He slept in there sometimes when they were in motels, with a pillow stuffed in first, then he wrapped himself around it. He usually did it when Dean told him Sam couldn't sleep in his bed at night. He was a weird little kid, but whatever made him happy. Dean decided that he'd wait a while before going to find Sam so he'd win. It was the big brotherly thing to do, so he laid on Bobby's moth eaten couch and turned on the TV. There was an episode of Star Trek on that he hadn't seen before, so he watched it, and feel asleep about halfway through.

* * *

He woke up a short time later to Sam crying and poking him.

"Dean is you dead?" Sam voice quivered. "Is you dead like that squirrel that Daddy hit with the car in the road that time? Dean? Don't be dead. Dean?"

Dean blinked a few times and turned to his terrified brother.

"Sorry Sam," he said stretching sleep out of his limbs. "I fell asleep."

"You didn't find me," Sam said, tears still flowing down his face. "You never finded me."

"That means you won, right?"

"Did you even look?" Sam said voice broken and quivering still.

"Of course I did."

"I don't think you did," Sam accused. "I think you left me to be hided forever. You never looked for me."

"Sammy," Dean said, sitting up and looking his little brother right in the face, taking one hand and wiping the tears away. "I wanted you to win. So I started to watch my show and I guess I fell asleep. I didn't not look for you. I wouldn't just leave you somewhere."

"But you did!" Sam yelled. "You leaved me."

Dean sighed. "Not on purpose. I knew where you were. You were upstairs in Dad's duffle. Right? I would have found in ten seconds. So I wanted to wait. I would have come got you in a little bit."

"You leaved me there for hours!" Sam said.

Dean looked at the clock; he was asleep for about twenty minutes. Star Trek wasn't even over yet.

"I'm sorry Sam," Dean said seriously. "I won't do it again."

"You always has to find me!" Sam said forcefully. "You always come get me. I don't want to think you be dead again."

"What do you know about being dead Sammy?"

"Daddy explained it," Sam nodded. "After he hitted that squirrel in the car that time. I telled him he had to go get it out off the road and he said it was dead. And dead means that you don't breathe anymore and you is hurted really bad and you go to heaven. Right? You said that Mommy, the lady that watches us sleep sometimes, was in heaven. Does that mean she's dead?"

Dean nodded.

"Did Daddy hit her with the car too?"

"No Sammy," Dean said softly. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"It makes you sad?" Sam asked; Dean nodded. "Know what makes Sam sad? When Dean doesn't come seeked him."

Dean rolled his eyes. How did a four year old get so good at making people feel bad?

"Sometimes at my school, the other kids talk about their Mommy's and I doesn't know anything about her, except that she watches me sleep sometimes. And only I can see her. But my teacher says that's a lie and I shouldn't telled people that. But I knows it's not a lie, because Daddy say-ed that I should never lie and I telled her that, but she didn't believe me. But I keeped telling her anyways. And then the kids at school thinked that I telled stories. But some of them like my stories. But they not stories they real life. But my teacher always telled me that I shouldn't tell people that my Mommy in heaven watches me sleep."

"You wanna know about Mom, Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded with his whole body, like he did every time he was excited. "Tell me _everything_."

"I don't know much," Dean said pulling Sam up onto his lap. "I was your age when she went away."

"Okay," Sam said.

"She was really pretty," Dean said. "And she smelled really good, like cookies."

"Like Uncle Bobby's cookies or Daddy's cookies?" Sam asked, because there was a big difference.

"Better than Uncle Bobby's cookies."

"Whoa," Sam said, impressed.

"Yeah," Dean chuckled. "She made me lunch a lot; cut the crusts of my sandwiches cuz she knew I didn't like them. And she sang to me when I had a bad dream, and she had special soup that she made when I was sick. She tucked me into bed at night and she taught me how to read and stuff when Dad was at work."

"You does all that stuff," Sam said. "Does that make you a mom?"

"No, Sammy," Dean said. "Moms are girls."

"But," Sam protested. "All the things you said. You does them for me. Yous give me the special soup with the fishies in it when I has a tummy ache, and you tucked me in to sleep and you singed when I is scared. And you cut the crusts off my sandwiches. And yous take care of me when Daddy's at work. I won't be the smartest kid in school if you didn't teached me writing and numbers. Yous my mom. So I tells my teacher I has a mom now?"

"I'm not your mom, Sammy," Dean sighed. "Don't tell people that."

"Okay," Sam said squirming a little on Dean's lap. "Can I knows more about her?"

"I remember when mom and dad brought you home from the hospital that she was really happy. And that she loved us a lot, like more than anything. She used to talk about how cute you were when you were a baby to the lady across the street. I didn't think you were cute. I thought you were weird looking. I still think you're weird looking. But I bet Mom would still think you're cute. I tried to trade you for a Transformer but Mom and Dad caught me trying to take you out of the crib and yelled at me."

"She sounds nice," Sam said thoughtfully. "I thinked I would like her a lot."

"Yeah," Dean answered. "I know you would. She was the best."

"Why did she go to heaven?" Sam asked. "Daddy said that the squirrel went to heaven because the car breaked all his bones."

"That didn't happen to Mom," Dean said quickly. "Nothing like that. That's a story for when you're a lot bigger."

"But you said you was as big as me when you knowed it," Sam protested.

"Yeah, Buddy," Dean answered. "But I don't want to know it. I would give anything not to know it. Maybe you can ask Dad in a couple years."

"I wanna know now," Sam said. "I's not a baby, Dean. I can knows things. I knows how light bulb works, Uncle Bobby telled me. He say-ed that when the sun goes to sleep it goes into the lights and that's why we can't have the lights on in the day. And I knowed how come you has to sleep, cuz it charge people batteries. Pastor Jim teached me about how the fridgerator light works. He says there is a gnome inside and it shuts off the light when you shut the door. I can knows about Mommy."

"Not this Sammy," Dean said. "You know everything I know except that, okay?"

"I guess," Sam huffed. "If I hided again will you look for me?"

"Yes," Dean said, and Sam slid off his lap, boney elbow digging into his calf.

"Don't forget this time," Sam said, running off.

Dean took a deep breath. Sam was never going to stop asking questions. He wanted to know everything. He asked questions about everything. Dean knew there would come a point where he didn't know the answers anymore. But if he could keep Sam from knowing what happened to mom, keep him away from monsters and evil for as long as possible, he was doing a good job. He'd be making his Mom proud, keeping Sammy safe. He was doing his best. Maybe he was a little bit like Sammy's mom, close enough anyway. Dean would be the best that Sam had. Hopefully that was good enough. Hopefully Sammy would understand that he did everything he could to make sure he was normal.

Dean looked around the room then got up to find Sam, who was probably back in the duffle bag trying to be clever.

* * *

Dean realized that he and Sammy didn't have the most regular relationship in the spectrum of brotherhood one afternoon when Sammy came running back into the house screaming with tears rolling down his face while Dean and their Dad sat at the kitchen table cleaning guns.

"Deans!" Sam yelled running into the kitchen. "Deans I need you!"

"What happened Sam?" Dean asked leaning out of the chair.

"I falled," Sam cried, voice shaking. "I cutted my knee on a rock. I bleeding."

"What were you doing outside?" John sighed. "You're not supposed to go outside by yourself."

"Are you okay?" Dean said, pulling Sam into a hug.

"No," Sam cried into Dean's shirt. "It hurts the most of anything ever. You gots to fix it, Deans."

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt if you listened and played inside like I told you," John said angrily.

"Come here," Dean said, taking Sam's hand and pulling him into the living room and placing him on the sofa. "I'll be right back."

"Hurry!" Sam said, tears still flowing down his face as he clutched his knee, which was barely bleeding.

Dean remembered when he was little and cut his leg, how he would run to their dad to try to fix it like Sam was now. Maybe Dean was to Sam what Dad would always be to Dean. Sam was his job after all. He got to take care of him no matter what. Dean found the band aids and anti-bacteria wipes in his Dad's first aid kit under the sink in the bathroom and came back to living room where Sam had started to calm down but was still silently crying.

"This is gonna hurt a little," Dean said ripping open the cleaner. "But I gotta clean it or it will get infected and your leg will fall off."

Sam looked at Dean in horror.

"It's gonna hurt more? It already hurt the most of anything!"

"It will only be for a second," Dean promised wiping the cleaning pad across his brother's leg quickly.

Sam winced and tried to pull away as Dean held his leg still.

"Now it's over," Dean said. "Okay, Sammy, I'll put a band aid on it and you'll be good as new." Dean pressed the band aid over the tiny cut on his brother's leg and tapped him twice. "All better."

"Deans?" Sam whispered. "Did you ever cut your leg when Mommy was here?"

Dean nodded.

"What did she do?" Sam asked voice still small like he didn't want their father in the next room to hear.

"She'd kiss it and make it better," Dean answered. "Because Mom kisses fix everything."

"So is my knee gonna be broked forever?" Sam asked.

"No Sammy," Dean smiled rubbing his hand through Sam's hair. "It will get better."

"But," Sam pouted.

Dean pressed his lips against the band aid on Sam's knee.

"All better," Dean smiled. "It's all better, it will heal up real good now."

Sam nodded and whipped the remaining tears off his face. "You're sure?"

"Yep."

"Even with no mommy kisses?" Sammy cried.

"Brother kisses are better," Dean said. "Now go wash your face," Dean instructed, patting Sam on the leg as he stood up.

Sam scurried off toward the bathroom. "Thanks Deans!" he called behind him before slamming the door to the bathroom because he wasn't quite tall enough to not slam it yet.

Dean felt proud of himself as he went back to finish helping his Dad with the guns.

"You shouldn't baby him," John said.

"He is a baby," Dean answered, shrugging.

"He needs to learn on his own," John said. "He needs to learn to listen to me when I give instructions. If he didn't go outside when I told him not to he wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Dean shrugged again.

"He's five," Dean said.

"Maybe you should tell him to listen to me," John said. "He listens to you."

"Only sometimes," Dean said, taking a gun from his dad and wiping it down like he was taught.

John sighed; clearly he was never going to through to Dean, Sam was that boys blind spot.


	12. Chapter 12

Because of his newly discovered learning disability, and trouble keeping up in school, Dean's teachers decided it was best if he repeated fourth grade. So Sam and Dean got to take the same bus when Sam started first grade in a small town outside of Bangor Maine. They got to live in a real house this time, with three bed rooms and working kitchen and heat. Dean was kind of excited about it; Sam didn't much care for the idea.

"But I can't see Dean," Sam told his dad as they got ready for bed on the first night. "What if something happens in the night and I need him."

"You're a big boy Sam," John said. "You can sleep in your own room, by yourself."

"I don't want to," Sam said. "I want to sleep in Dean's room."

Dean rolled his eyes. He was all for having a little bit of privacy. He was ten now, he felt like he deserved to have some alone time. He loved Sam, but seriously, the kid was a little bit clingy. Dean had gotten used to having Sammy sleeping in the same room as him, but he was growing up, it would be nice to have this own space for the first time in his life.

"You'll be fine Sam," Dean sighed. "You don't have to see me in order to sleep."

"But," Sam said looking between his dad and his brother holding his plastic cow to his chest. "I never have before. I don't think I'll like it. What if something comes for me? What if Dean doesn't hear it in time and it eats me? What if there's a monster in my closet?"

"You'll be fine Sammy," John sighed annoyed.

"I'll be down the hall. Nothing is going to eat you or nothin'," Dean smiled.

"Promise?" Sam said a look of pure terror on the boy's face.

"Yes," Dean said looking Sam in the eye. "I promise."

"Okay," Sam said taking a deep breath. "I'll try it. If I get scared can I still come to your room?"

"If you really try to sleep in your own room," Dean said patiently. "Then we'll talk about it."

Sammy nodded slowly then turned and went into his bedroom, leaving the door open, just in case.

"He'll be fine right?" Dean said as he sat next to his dad on the couch.

"Yes, Dean," John answered taking a long drink off his beer. "He'll be fine."

"I just worry about him, you know?" Dean said. "I want everything to be okay for him."

"He'll be fine," John repeated. "You take good care of him."

Dean smiled to himself and turned back to the TV, sitting with his Dad in silence. He'd done good, made his dad proud. He did his job.

* * *

Dean went to bed about an hour later, and it took probably about twenty minutes before his door creaked opened and a short skinny figure stood in the doorway light coming from the television.

"Go to bed Sam," Dean said without looking up.

"I need you," Sam responded. "Can't sleep."

"Did you even try?" Dean sighed. "Or did you just wait until you heard Dad start snoring and come in here?"

"I didn't," Sam answered. "I tried really hard, but I couldn't fall asleep."

Dean sat up and grabbed his fire helmet off the headboard. It didn't fit him anymore, but he liked to keep it close just in case.

"Come here," he directed. Sam walked over stood at the side of Dean's bed. Dean put the helmet on Sam's head. "Listen, this is a very important helmet. It keeps you safe and makes you brave. Alright? I want you to wear it and sleep in your own bed tonight, in your own room."

"I don't know," Sam said. "It's dark, and I don't like it."

"Look at me," Dean said. "I've had that helmet for a long time, and it protected me from everything. I wore it when I was scared and needed to be brave. It'll protect you too."

"You're sure?"

"Has anything bad ever happened to me?"

Sam shook his head.

"Well there you go." Dean smiled taping on the brim of the helmet. "Would I lie to you?"

"No, Dad gets made when we lie," Sam answered.

"Exactly," Dean smiled. "Try your own room tonight. If you still don't like it after you give a good honest try, I'll talk to dad. But you gotta try Sammy. You're never gonna grow if you don't try. Then you'll be that tall forever."

"Nu-huh," Sam said rolling his eyes. "You made that up."

"Ask Dad," Dean said. "If you don't sleep in your own bed in your own room, you stay a little kid forever and you never grow. Just like eating vegetables."

"That's ridiculous," Sam answered.

"Fine," Dean shrugged. "Don't blame me when you're twenty and still three feet tall, cuz I warned ya."

Sam shifted back and forth on his feet and screwed up his face a little bit.

"Okay," Sam said after a short silence. "I'll try it, but only because I'm not sure if you're lying or not and I don't want to chance it, but it's really dark in there."

"I'll talk to Dad in the morning," Dean said. "We'll see about getting a nightlight or something? Would that make it better?"

"I guess," Sam mumbled, then turned and started out of Dean's room. "Good night, Dean."

"Good boy," Dean smiled. "Good night, Sammy."

Sam waved behind him as he ran off to his own room.

Dean wondered if parents felt like this when they realized their kids were growing up. He wondered if his dad felt like his when he thought about Dean, or Sammy. Sometimes he wasn't sure if his Dad thought about Sam the way Dean did. Dean was the one that took care of him. Dean sighed to himself as he punched his pillow before laying back down. Sammy was getting to be a big kid, his own room, first grade, making real friends. It made Dean sad, but in a good way. He couldn't really explain it. He'd have to ask Uncle Bobby about it next time they were in South Dakota.

* * *

The only good thing about Dean being held back in school was that Sam and Dean had school in the same building. He got to keep an eye on the kid and walk him to and from school without having to run a mile and half every day. That ended up being a really good thing; especially on days like that one Sammy was having shortly before Halloween.

Dean came around the building from the playground to see Sammy sitting on the steps surrounded by bigger kids crying.

"Hey!" Dean yelled running over. "Leave him alone!"

"Wanna take your turn Winchester?" One of the boys, Timothy, laughed. "Get in line."

"No you stupid jerk," Dean said shoving the boy in the chest. "That's my kid brother. What the heck's your problem he's in first grade?"

"Kid was asking for it," Timothy answered, shoving Dean back.

"He's six," Dean spat. "What do you mean he was asking for it?"

"He was just sitting there, all alone, looking sad, just waiting for someone to come along and teach him a lesson."

"No, dick wad," Dean said, filling with rage. "He's waiting for me to walk him home. Pick on someone your own size you stupid jerk."

"Volunteering?" Timothy laughed. "Take a pounding for a little brat."

"No one talks about Sam like that but me, dick face," Dean growled, fist balling up at his sides.

"Dean, come on," Sam said, pulling at his brother's arm. "He's not worth it lets just go. Dad'll be really mad if you get another fight."

"Don't care Sammy," Dean said through his teeth. "No one gets to be mean to you but me."

"Dean," Sam repeated. "Let's go."

"Listen to the baby," Timothy laughed. "Cuz I will mess you up Winchester."

Dean didn't even think as he stepped forward and punched Timothy in face. Before either boy knew was happening, they were both on the ground punching and rolling. For Sam, it took too long for teachers to notice and pull them apart.

"Boys," a teacher scowled. "What is this about?"

"He made my brother cry," Dean said spitting out some dirt that got in his mouth in the scuffle. "Jerk deserved it."

"Both of you go home right now," the teacher holding Timothy back said. "Or we'll call your parents down here. If anything like this happens again you won't be so lucky. Understand?"

"Yes sir," both older boys answered neither looking away from each other.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, turning and grabbing Sam's arm.

"What was that about?" Dean demanded as the boys crossed the threshold to their rented house. Their dad was working downtown at a garage for now. Trying to kept the boys in one place for a little bit. He wouldn't be home for a couple hours.

"Nothing," Sam mumbled. "You didn't have to do that."

"You were crying!" Dean exclaimed. "What did he do to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam said tossing his book bag onto the kitchen table. "He was just being a bully. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Sammy," Dean said, putting his bag down next to his brother's. "I don't like it. No one should be picking on you."

Sam shrugged and started to pull out his workbooks for homework. "Dad's gonna be really mad at you when he sees your bruises. He told you to stop fighting."

"Don't change the subject Sammy," Dean scoffed. "If that kid messes with you again I'll do more than give him a black eye."

"You don't have to defend me," Sam said in a small voice. "Maybe I wanna take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have to," Dean replied. "You're six years old. You should have to put up with that crap, especially from kids way bigger than you. It's not fair. Timothy's just a big jerk."

Sam seemed to ignore Dean as he started to work on his homework. Dean stood at the side of the table staring at his brother, waiting for acknowledgement.

"I'm gonna make some snacks," Dean sighed after several long minutes of silence. "You want anything?"

"If you're making sandwiches," Sam answered. "I won't say no."

Dean put together a couple of cold cut sandwiches down on the table between him and his brother as they worked on their homework.

"He was calling you names," Sam said, not looking up. "He said you were stupid cuz you had to take fourth grade twice. I don't know how he knowed that you did. He just started asking if I was stupid like you. And I tried to ignore him but he kept saying it and laughing. And I didn't want to say 'no' because I knows you're not stupid, but I couldn't say 'yes' because I'm not stupid. So I started crying and then you came."

Dean looked up from his history text book and looked at his little brother. Their eyes locked, Sam's with tears in the corners.

"Oh," Dean breathed. "That's still not fair, Sammy. I'm sorry."

"It's not like it's your fault," Sam said. "He's the dumb one. He probably doesn't have to move around all the time. School's hard when you have to move a lot and go to different school all the time. I was gonna tell him that, but you showed up and punched him."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated. Dean wasn't really sure what he was apologizing for, he just knew he had to.

"You didn't do anything," Sam shrugged and went back to his homework.

Dean watched as his brother worked his word problems and ate his sandwich. He'd do anything to keep Sammy from having to live the life their dad had given them. He'd do anything to protect him. He knew that somehow this was all this fault. He should have been to do something, to fix this. If only he could fix it. He'd do anything to keep Sam from feeling the pain he felt.

* * *

When their Dad got home around six, Dean was standing on a chair stirring spaghetti on the stove.

"Hey, Dad," Dean called. "Dinner's almost ready."

John grunted and dropped down into the sofa. It had been a very long time since he worked a regular nine to five. It was showing in his daily life. Dean could tell his dad was more tired than usual. Dean put dinner on the table calling Sam in from his bed room. The family sat around the table making the small talk that made them seem like a normal family.

"What happened to your face, Dean-o?" John asked about halfway through dinner.

Dean looked across the table to Sam, fork midway to his mouth. "Nothing."

"You have a bruise on the side of your face," John said forcefully. "What happened?"

"Just some rough housing," Dean shrugged, shoving food into his mouth. "Got outta hand. Sammy got me good, right Sam?"

"Don't get your brother to lie for you," John said. "What happened? Did you get in another fight at school?"

"It wasn't his fault," Sam interrupted.

"Sam, don't," Dean said in warning.

"This big kid was being mean and made me cry," Sam said. "He was just protecting me. The other kid was way bigger than me and he was being mean and Dean was just trying to keep him from being mean to me. It was my fault."

John slammed his fist down on the table, both boys jumped, Dean let his eyes fall to the table. "God Damn it, Dean. How many times do I have to tell you not get into fights? How many?"

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled to the table.

"Look at me," John yelled. Dean looked up slowly. "Do you not know how to listen? Are you really as stupid as your teachers' say you are?"

"No sir," Dean whispered.

"How many times have I told you to keep your hands to yourself?"

"A lot," Dean answered.

"Then what's your problem?" John continued still yelling. Sam had covered his ears with his hands, elbows on the table. "Why can't you listen? Have I not taught you better ways to deal with things? Why do you think you have to solve everything by hitting people?"

"He was picking on Sam," Dean defended. "I couldn't just let him get away with it."

"So you fucking hit the kid?" John yelled. "You get in fight? You know what you do when another kid is picking on your brother? You get a fucking teacher. You don't hit people, Dean. You don't pick a fight."

"Yes sir," Dean said quietly.

"I can't frigging believe you," John said, throwing his hands in the air. "Did you think I just wouldn't notice a bruise on your face? You think it's okay to lie to me when I ask you want happened?"

"I didn't want you to be mad," Dean mumbled. "Sir."

"Should have thought of that before you attacked another kid, Dean," John sighed. "How _stupid_ can you be? You sit there and lie to my face and think I wouldn't know."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, holding in tears. He glanced over at Sam, hands still over his ears looking between his Dad and brother. "I won't do it again."

"How many times have you said that?" John said, slamming his hand down again. "How many times have you sat just like you're sittin' now and lied right to my face about this exact thing? What is it gonna take to get it through your head that keep doing this?"

"I'm sorry," Dean said again.

"I have a really hard time believing anything that comes out of your mouth right now, Dean," John continued to yell. "Did you get yourself suspended again?"

Dean shook his head. "No sir, it was after school so the teachers just let us go home with a warning."

"It's like you're trying to get us to move again," John said. "You can't behave a couple months. You think that maybe your brother wants to stay at the same school for his first grade year like you did? You really don't care about anything but yourself."

"I do," Dean said to the table, tears he couldn't help but hold in hitting his plate. "I care a lot."

"No you don't," John said shaking his head. "If you did you'd think before you start punching people. You don't talk with your fists you little idiot."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated.

"You'd better be," John sighed. "Clean up dinner and go to your room. Is your fucking homework finished?"

Dean nodded as he slid out of his chair and brought his plate to the sink. He washed his dish and walked sullenly to his room and closed the door. He fell face first onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and finally let himself cry. Maybe he was the fuck up that his dad always told him he was. Maybe he wasn't protecting Sam like he thought he was. He was just a big stupid idiot like everyone said.

* * *

Sometime later he must have cried himself to sleep because Sam woke him up.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered.

"Go to your own room," Dean said sleepily. "Just go back to your room before Dad finds you and you get in trouble too."

"Dad's asleep in front of the TV," Sam whispered back. "He doesn't know."

"Just go back to your room Sammy."

"I wanna make sure you're okay," Sam said.

"I'm fine," Dean mumbled.

"You want me to stay with you?" Sam asked. "When I'm sad I always sleep you with you, so this time I can make you not sad."

"I'm fine Sam," Dean repeated. "Just go to your room before Dad wakes up and you get in trouble too."

"I don't care," Sam whispered. "I want to know you're okay."

"I'm fine," Dean said again. "Just go to your room."

"I wanna sleep in your bed," Sam said.

"No," Dean said, turning to look at his brother. "You can sleep in your own bed. You've been doing it for weeks. You don't need to sleep in my bed."

"But I want to," Sam whined.

Dean sighed and slid over, giving Sam enough room to climb it. He had the hardest time saying no to Sam. "Just don't kick me. You're getting way too big for this."

Sam planted his face into the crook of Dean's armpit, like always. "I love you," Sam mumbled. "I'm glad you protect me, even if Daddy doesn't like it."

"I love you too, Sammy," Dean whispered, closing his eyes and letting his breathing even out to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

"Dean," Sam whined throwing himself onto the sofa next to Dean one Saturday morning while they were living in Louisiana after Sam started second grade. "I don't feel good."

"What doesn't feel good," Dean said pressing the back of his hand to Sam's forehead. Sam pulled away like Dean was trying to burn him. "Hold still ass hat. I'm trying to see if you got a fever."

"I don't have a fever, I'm freezin'," Sam answered, letting Dean feel his head. "And my stomach hurts, and my head hurts and my legs hurt."

"You're burnin' up, kiddo," Dean said, wiping the sweat from Sam's head on his brother's shirt. "Any of the kids at school sick?"

"No," Sam said shaking his head and trying to pull the blanket off the back of the couch. "Andrew's been absent for a few days, but I think his family went on vacation, and Vanessa hasn't been at school because her sister has the chicken pox."

"The chicken pox _is_ sick, Sammy," Dean sighed. "Let's just hope you don't got that. That would suck. Normally, you gotta go to the doctor for that, and Dad won't be home for at least a week. I don't think we can go to the doctor without him."

Sam shivered and pressed into Dean's side. "Did you ever have chicken pox?"

"Before you were born," Dean answered. "I don't really remember it. Dad said the kid next door had it, so I caught it from him. I remember that I couldn't be around Mom for a while, so that you wouldn't be sick when you were born. And I was itchy. Dad worried about you getting' it when you started school. I heard him talking to Uncle Bobby about it. You can only get it one time I think, cuz when I was in first grade this mean girl got it, then everyone else sept me and one other kid got, cuz we both had it when we were really little. We'll find out if you start gettin' a rash if you got the chicken pox."

"What does the rash look like?" Sam asked, situating himself so his head was in Dean's lap, blanket pulled tight around him.

"I don't know," Dean answered. "It looks like a rash."

"Like this?" Sam unrolled himself from the blanket and pulled his shirt up a little showing Dean his red and pock marked belly.

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Probably exactly like that. Get up, I'm gonna call Bobby, find out what to do about you."

"Can I have soup?" Sam asked. "With fishes. The sick soup."

"I don't know if we have any Goldfish, Sam," Dean said picking up the phone and dialing the familiar digits. "I'll see what I can do in a minute, okay."

Sam nodded as Dean listened to ringing on the other end of the phone, until Bobby finally answered.

"Uncle Bobby, it's Dean. I think Sam has the chicken pox and I don't know where Dad is, and he's not supposed to be home until at least Friday, and I don't know what to do."

"Calm down," Bobby's soothing voice said into his ear. "Why do you think he has the chicken pox?"

"He said a kid at school's sister had it," Dean explained. "And he has dots on his belly." He turned to Sam and asked. "Do they itch?"

Sam shook his head and groaned, pulling the blanket tighter.

"But they don't itch yet," Dean added, slowly growing into a panic as he spoke. "Dad's not here. I think I have to take Sam to the doctor. But I don't think there's doctor in this town, and I don't know how to get there. I don't know what to do."

"Just calm down for a second," Bobby said. "Where are you right now?"

"We're in Louisiana," Dean answered. "That's far away from you. I don't know where Dad is, and I don't know anyone else."

"You gotta thermometer anywhere around?" Bobby asked. "Take his temperature, then tell me what it is."

Dean nodded and placed the phone on the table and ran off to the bathroom to see if their dad had left the first aid kit under the sink. Dean ran back and told Sam to open up taking his temperature and relying the information to Bobby.

"It says that he has a 100 degree fever," Dean explained. "But Sam says he's cold."

"Okay," Bobby said calmly. "This is what I want you to do. Make Sam eat something, soup or something like that. Even if he doesn't want to eat, make him anyway. And I want you to take his temperature every couple hours and if it gets any higher, I want you to call me back, you got that? I'm gonna try to find your dad. You just take care of your brother."

"Okay," Dean breathed. "I can do that."

"Don't let him scratch if he gets itchy," Bobby added. "If he scratches it'll scar. Don't want that now, understand?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

"Call me back before you go to bed," Bobby said. "If the fever doesn't get worse."

"I will," Dean said. "I'll talk to you tonight."

Goldfish crackers weren't on the list of necessities for the boys, no matter how many times Sam tried to tell John they were an actually a vital food group: "Cereal, pizza, spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, and goldfish, the five food groups." Almost every time they were in the snack aisle of a grocery store. But they had plenty of soup. Dean put a pot on and waited doing his best to keep an eye on his brother over the back of the couch. It appeared like he'd fallen asleep, wrapped up tight in blanket, shivering.

He set the hot bowl of soup on the coffee table and shook Sam lightly.

"Bobby said you should eat something," Dean said as his brother looked up at his drowsily. "Even if you don't want it, it's the best way to keep the fever down."

Sam nodded and sat up enough to take the soup on to his lap. Dean stood over him, watching, making sure he slurped down most of it.

"I'm too full," Sam said, halfway through the bowl.

"Alright," Dean nodded taking the bowl from him and placing back on the coffee table. "Bobby said to make sure you don't scratch. So if you start itching, dad has stuff you're supposta put on poison ivy to keep it from itching, I can put some of that on ya if you think you're gonna scratch." Dean sat down on the couch next to his brother who promptly fell into his lap.

"I'm cold."

"Want me to get the big blanket off the bed?" Dean asked. "It's the only other blanket we got."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I do. I want it."

"Okay," Dean smiled sliding out from under Sam and rushing to the bedroom and back with the big comforter.

Sam was sound asleep when Dean got back, curled into a ball. Dean laid the blanket over him and curled into the less comfortable arm chair. Like he promised Bobby he woke Sam up every few hours to check his temperature. It didn't get any higher, but it didn't go down either. When he called Bobby that night after tucking Sam into bed, Bobby explained that he'd found their dad.

"He'll be home by first light," Bobby said. "Got another guy on his job. He'll figure out what to do about Sammy."

"Okay," Dean said with a sigh of relief. "Sammy spent most of the day asleep. He's still asleep, but in his bed now. He was starting to itch before I put him to bed."

"You make him eat?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "He had about a can and half of soup. He was mostly thirsty and cold."

"Good," Bobby said, Dean could feel the smile through the phone. "You did real good. Your Dad got poison ivy cream? That might help with the itching."

"Yeah, I already did that," Dean said. "I figured it was a good idea. Couldn't hurt anyway. His fever didn't go down, but he says he's cold. And he's all sweaty."

"That's how fevers usually work, kiddo," Bobby said. "He sounds like he was doing alright all things considered."

"Okay," Dean said. "Thanks for helping me."

"No problem," Bobby said. "Tell your dad to call me when he gets there. Keep an eye on Sam, keep checking his temperature. You're goin' real good kiddo."

When John got back to the dark and silent house, Dean was passed out cold on the couch with a thermometer in his hand. Sam was wrapped in every blanket in the house in Dean's bed. Clearly it had been a long day judging from the state of things.

"Hey, Buddy," John whispered shaking Dean slightly. "Wake up."

"Call Uncle Bobby," Dean said sleepily. "What time is it? I gotta check on Sammy."

"I got it," John insured him. "You just go to bed."

"Sam's got all the blankets," Dean said sitting up and blinking rapidly. "He says he's cold. He's also in my bed, and I didn't' want to sleep in his gross sweaty bed, but he didn't either."

"I'll grab the extras out of the Chevy," John said. "You gonna be comfortable here?"

Dean nodded and laid back down, curling into himself and falling slowly back to sleep as he felt the warmth of his Dad's leather jacket over him.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam met Dean outside the school crying for the second time in April of his first grade year while they were living in Arkansas.

"What happened?" Dean asked running over to where Sam sat on the steps.

"There was a b-b-b-ike race today," Sam cried. "A-a-a-and I don't know how to ride a bike and th-th-th-they all laughed a-a-a-at me."

Dean sat down next to Sam and pulled him into his side. "I'll teach you how to ride a bike."

"Y-y-y-you know h-h-h-how?" Sam said, his voice muffled by Dean's shirt.

"Uncle Bobby taught me when I was your age," Dean answered. "Out back of the salvage yard after school sometimes."

"Daddy didn't teach you?" Sam asked. "Everyone said that my dad should teach me because that's how everyone else learned. They said everyone knows and that my dad doesn't like me."

"No," Dean sighed. "Dad wasn't around to teach me either. I don't remember where he was, but we had a bike thing at school, too, so Bobby taught me. Dad likes you just fine. He doesn't have to teach you. I will."

"Oh," Sam said, as his breathing started to even out.

"Sammy," Dean chuckled. "I teach you everything, remember. I can teach you how to ride a bike."

"But we don't gotta bike, Dean," Sam pouted. "You can't."

"I'll figure it out," Dean smiled. "I always do right?"

Sam nodded into Dean's side.

"Come on," Dean said, gesturing out to the road. "Let's get home."

Dean took Sam's hand and pulled him along behind him, back to the hotel they were staying at for the time being. Their Dad had left for a hunt a few days before, telling Dean to only leave the room to go to school, and not to open the door for anyone. He said he'd be back in a week.

Sam sat on the bed he claimed as his and watched Dean start his homework. "Dean, can I ask you a question?"

"Already did, Sam," Dean looked up and smiled slyly. "What's up?"

"Where does Dad leave so much?" Sam asked. "Why can't he stay with us like all the other dads?"

"He's working," Dean answered.

"Yeah, but," Sam replied. "Everyone else's dad comes home at the end of the day from work and ours doesn't. And I can't ever talk about him, and I don't even know what he does for a job."

"That's cuz it's a secret," Dean said. "We can't tell anyone because no one can know Dad's real identity."

"That's why we move so much?"

Dean nodded and went back to his math worksheet. "Yep, have to keep moving or people will find out he's a spy."

"How come no one's figure it out?" Sam asked. "I mean, like, how come our schools haven't called each other and told them? If there's a spy out there with two kids someone would notice."

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," Dean sighed.

"But I want the answers," Sam nodded. "I want to know everything. I want my life to make sense."

"Life doesn't make sense," Dean answered. "You just gotta learn to deal with it."

"Okay," Sam shrugged. "Can I watch tv?"

"Yeah, whatever you want Sammy."

Sam flicked through the channels before finding some cartoons and leaning back against the headboard, and then sighed. "Why can't we be normal?"

"We are normal, Sam."

"No, I mean, like, why don't I know how to ride a bike, and why don't we live in a house."

"We did live in a house," Dean answered. "And you complained the whole time about having your own room."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "But, like, nobody else I know goes to three schools in one year. And everyone else has a bike, and a dog. Even Uncle Bobby has a dog."

"Dad would never let us have a dog in the car, Sam," Dean answered rolling his eyes. "Why do you care what everyone else does? I don't care, it shouldn't matter."

"But I wanna be like everyone else," Sam said.

"Being like everyone else is boring," Dean said. "You shouldn't try to be like everyone else. Then you blend in, and that's lame. Our life is cooler than everybody else's. Nobody in your class knows someone cool like Uncle Bobby, right? Everybody else's parents drive minivans and lame cars, right? Not awesome cars like Dad's? Our Dad's a spy, Sam. Everyone else's Dads have lame jobs like tax accounts and stuff. "

Sam nodded, he looked kind of sad, though.

"What's wrong?"

"I just wanna have friends and stuff. And we move around a lot and I can't really make good friends. Like Billy and Jacob are best friends. But I don't have a best friend."

"I thought I was your best friend," Dean smiled.

"Yeah," Sam said, squirming around on the bed a little. "But I want a best friend in my class too. So I can eat lunch with them and stuff. I don't like being alone. I have to eat lunch by myself every day because no one is enough friends with me to let me sit with them. I'm always the new kid."

Dean looked over at his brother who was staring straight ahead at the television. He'd always eaten lunch at school alone, played on the playground alone, separated himself from everyone, tried not to get attached. Dean had never felt like he needed anyone else but Sam. His life had revolved around Sam for so long he didn't know how to let anyone else in. All Sam wanted was to have someone who needed him like he needed Sam.

"You know how Dad is," Dean said softly. "He doesn't really listen to us, but when I was in first grade Uncle Bobby made him live in his town for the whole year so I wouldn't have to switch schools. And I heard that Uncle Bobby got kinda mad at Dad for moving us around so much. So maybe the next time we're there you can try to get Bobby to talk to Dad about it. Dad might listen to him."

"Okay," Sam said, still staring at the television. "When are you gonna teach me to ride a bike?"

"As soon as I can get my hands on one," Dean smiled. "How about that?"

"Sounds good," Sam answered. "But Dean, don't steal it."

Dean laughed. "Why would I do that?"

Sam turned to his brother and rolled his eyes. "I'm six, not stupid. I know we don't gots money. And Dad's not gonna buy me a bike because I'm the only kid at school that doesn't have one. I've seen you take stuff from stores and the gas station. Just don't steal a bike for me."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Okay."

* * *

On Friday, Dean pulled a red bike that was far too big for his little brother in front of their room. It had been sitting in the bike rake in front of the school unclaimed for a few days. He'd waited until it seemed like all the other kids had left for the weekend before jumping on and riding it home, head down as fast as he could so no one would notice. Sam was waiting him back at the hotel since he had taken the bus home.

"Where did you get it?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I borrowed if from a kid at school," Dean answered rolling his eyes.

"Does the kid know you borrowed it?"

"Yes, _Dad_, I asked him if I could."

"Did he say 'yes'?" Sam said, still eyeing his brother cynically.

"Just get on the damn bike, Sam," Dean sighed. "It's not hot. I didn't steal it. Unless you've changed your mind and you don't want to learn how to ride it."

Sam took a deep breath and let Dean help him climb up onto the bike. If anyone was looking out the window of their motel rooms the day, they'd be in for a show. Those two little boys running around one holding on to the seat of a bike chasing after his brother while the little one screamed for him not to let go as the went around in circles. It was a beautiful thing, the joys of carefree childhood. Dean wondered, running behind him until dusk that day, how many more moments he and Sam would have like this. How long it would be before Sam figured it all out. He was a smart kid, Sammy He would figure it out soon enough. He never stopped asking questions. Dean doubted he ever would. The only thing Dean was happy about in their situation is Dad didn't sit Sammy down and tell him everything over breakfast one more like he did with Dean. If Dean could anything he'd make sure Dad never told Sam the truth, he'd stay this kid right here forever, but Dean didn't have a say in the matter. He never did.

"Don't let go, Dean," Sam warned. "Don't let go until I say it's okay. I don't wanna fall."

"Okay," Dean said, laughing and breathing heavy from all the running. "I won't let go. I won't let you fall."

Anyone watching that day would tell Dean that Sam was never going to learn how to do it if Dean didn't let go. He had to let Sam try it for himself. But Dean would never do that. He'd never let Sammy go, he'd never let him fall, never let him get hurt. They didn't have a helmet, if Sam wasn't ready he'd fall and hit his head on the parking lot. That wouldn't be even a little bit good. His dad would skin him alive if Sam got hurt like that.

As night fell, Dean heard his stomach rumble.

"Sammy, I'm getting hungry, wanna call it a night for now?"

"I guess," Sam sighed. "I think I'm getting the hang of this bike thing," Sam answered. "Can we do it more tomorrow or do you have to give the bike back?"

"We have all weekend," Dean said. "I have to give it back Monday."

"You totally stole it," Sam said as he got off the bike. "Didn't you?"

"Seriously?" Dean laughed. "Asked if I could use it."

"Whose bike is it?"

"A kid in my class," Dean smiled. "You don't know him."

"You don't have any friends, Dean," Sam said seriously. "Not good friends that would let you use their bike for a whole weekend. Where'd you get it?"

"Just drop it, dude," Dean laughed. "Let's get some food."

Sam sighed dramatically.

Dean chuckled to himself; this kid was going to be ridiculous when he got older. He had more attitude than his tiny six year old frame should be able to hold.

"You shouldn't worry so much," Dean said, pulling Sam into a head lock. "Stunt your growth."

"I just don't want you to get in more trouble," Sam explained as they made their way to room thirty five. "I don't like it when Dad yells. And when he yells it's always at you and then you're sad and I don't like it."

"Dad doesn't have to know about the bike, Sammy," Dean sighed. "If you don't tell him, he won't know and it will be like it never happened."

"So you _did_ steal it!" Sam said through gritted teeth. "Really Dean?"

"Shut it," Dean replied. "Just, where else was I gonna get a bike? I mean, honestly, Sam. You wanted to learn how to ride a bike. We can't exactly afford to buy you one. And if we did where would we put it? We don't got room in the car. We can't just get a bike and leave it at Bobby's or Pastor Jim's. We can't rent one. We basically live out of a car. You were freakin' crying about it. I wasn't gonna let you be upset."

Dean opened the door to the room and ushered Sam inside. Sam looked up and his big brother with a scowl on his little face.

"I asked you not to steal it, and you just did whatever you want," Sam said. "You can't just steal things. You're gonna go to jail, Dean. That's where stealers go."

"I'm not going to _jail_," Dean sighed. "I'm bringing the bike back to where I got it on Monday, just like I said. I'm just borrowing it."

"Without asking," Sam whined.

"Just stop worrying so much about everything," Dean said opening the fridge. "It was on the bike rack all week and no one took it home. I even waited until everyone had gone home for the weekend before I took it. I'll head out early on Monday and put it back. No one will even miss it alright? Do you want the last of the cereal or some spaghetti-o's?"

Sam shrugged and threw himself onto his bed dramatically. "I don't care. Whatever you want. When is Dad coming back?"

"Should be back the day after tomorrow."

"Are we going to leave right away?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean answered. "We'll find out when he get back. I think we're staying at least a week. I think that's what he said."

"I kinda like this school," Sam mumbled. "I hope we can stay til the end of the year. It's only a couple months. Maybe he'll let us stay."

"You never know," Dean said opening a can of spaghetti-o's. "Maybe we won't find a new job for a while, or he can pick something up in town. It'd be nice to finish up school here, I guess. It's not too bad."

"Will you talk to him?" Sam asked. "See if he'll let us stay."

"Dad doesn't listen to me," Dean answered. "But I'll try. He might, you never know."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said. "And thanks for teaching me to ride a bike. Even if you stole it."

"No problem kidd-o," Dean smiled taking Sam's dinner out of the microwave. "Now get over here and eat this before it gets cold."


	15. Chapter 15

The Winchesters fell into a routine in Delaware when Dean was 5th grade. They'd been living in a pre-furnished two bedroom apartment there since just before Halloween and Christmas break was fast approaching. John said they'd be staying until the end of the quarter at school, since Sam seemed to be getting along so well and Dean has already started a couple projects that would be due after Christmas break. Dean had even managed to make himself a couple friends. It didn't seem worth it to pack up and go when the boys were actually starting to fit in.

Dean liked his teacher here, Mr. Harrington. He got the special attention he needed without feeling like he was getting singled out. A balance that zero of the other schools he'd gone to have even come close to achieving. In science, the class was doing projects on different famous inventors and their contributions to the scientific community.

"I think you'll like what you find out about your inventor, Dean," Mr. Harrington smirked after telling Dean he'd be presenting on Alexander Graham Bell.

"Telephone guy?" Dean said skeptically.

"Yes," Mr. Harrington chuckled. "Just trust me. I'm sure you'll find something interesting in your research. Something you'll appreciate, that you'll relate to."

"Cuz eleven year olds and the telephone guy are so much alike," Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm sure me and Chuckles got a lot in common, Teach."

"Just trust me, Dean," his teacher said. "You never know."

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "I doubt it. He was probably super smart and stuff, since he invented things. I'm never gonna do nothin' like that."

"Not with that attitude," Mr. Harrington chuckled. "You have the brains to do whatever you want, Dean. You just gotta believe in yourself a little. Just read his biography in the library, all sorts of interesting things in there."

* * *

Dean checked out three different biographies from the town library on his walk home with Sam, since that library was much better than the one at the school. He figured Mr. Harrington would like that he tried to put in extra work. He felt like he actually stood a chance of getting good grades at this school. Grades his dad would be proud to stick on the fridge next to Sam's A+ spelling tests. Christmas break started in two days, and the projects weren't due until January, but Dean never knew if he'd have much time to do it during the actual vacation. His dad could have plans that took him elsewhere and who knew if he'd bring the boys with him or not. He'd heard his Dad talking about a werewolf job in Maryland over the phone, with their family he never knew if Dad would just take off for a week and leave him to watch Sam or actually take the boys with him. He'd learned to be on his toes, ready for anything; just like his dad told him to be.

"You'll never believe what I learned in school today, Dad," Dean declared at the traditional Winchester dinner table, the roadside diner down the street from the apartment complex. It didn't look like much, but Dean swore they served the best burgers he'd ever eaten. "The coolest thing, you'll never even believe it."

"I'll bite," John replied looking over.

"We're doing reports, right, on inventors, for science," Dean explained. "And I got Alexander Graham Bell."

"Telephone?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Anyways, I was readin' about him in school and stuff when he was a kid, and guess what Dad?"

"What Dean?" John played along.

"He had the dyslexia too!" Dean stated. "He invited, like, everything. He was super smart and stuff. He didn't just invent to telephone. He invented a bunch of other stuff be he's the most famousest for the telephone."

"So basically," John said wiping his face with a napkin. "What you're saying is that you could be doing a whole hell of a lot better in class if you tried?"

"I…I guess," Dean mumbled.

"Bell was a very smart guy," John said. "Didn't let a learning disability get in the way of achieving everything he wanted. You got the same one and use it as an excuse for just about everything."

"I do not," Dean protested. "It's not an excuse."

"You can't do your homework cuz you don't got anyone to help you because you have dyslexia, is an excuse to not do it," John stated plainly. "It's nobody's fault but your own for not doin' your work."

"I'm doing a lot better at this school," Dean whined. "Really good. I've got B minuses in Science and Math, and I'm doing really good in history. Just not so good in English, but not as bad as I've done at other schools. I really like my teacher, he's really good. He's helping me a lot. He says I can do better if I try harder so I'm trying really hard, 'sept I'm not really doing any better. But he says that's okay because he can see I'm at least trying."

"I know, Dean," John sighed. "You've told me. Greatest teacher you've ever had. But I've been telling you the same damn thing your whole life and you never bothered to listen to me. I'm going to the bathroom, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Ask for the check if the waitress decides to show her face."

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded as his father got up and made his way across the restaurant.

"I thought it was cool," Sam said when they're dad was out of ear shot.

"Yeah?" Dean said looking up from the table to meet Sam's eyes.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "It's someone like you, kinda. You doesn't know anyone else with your ability, so it's kinda like finding other superheroes."

"It's not an _ability_, Sammy," Dean sighed. "It's a _disability_ the opposite. I don't have superpowers."

"Oh," Sam said, sounding incredibly disappointed. "So are you super villain, then?"

"What?" Dean scoffed. "No, I'm not a super villain, Sam. What are you talking about?"

"If the opposite of an ability is a disability," Sam explained. "Then you're the bad guy, like Magneto."

"I'm not an X-Man," Dean chuckled. "I'm a regular person. I don't have superpowers or super villain powers, or whatever."

"Then what's dyslexia?"

Dean sighed and squirmed a little in the booth, looking across at this little brother. "It means I have a hard time reading. It's not a big deal; I just read slow I guess."

"That's kinda a lame superpower," Sam said.

"It's not a superpower," Dean said through gritted teeth. "Stop saying that."

"You boys need anything else?" The waitress said stopping by their table, a big fake smile on her face as she loudly smacked her gum.

"Our Dad said just the check please," Dean said looking up at her sweetly. "He'll be right back."

"Alright Sweetheart," the waitress answered. "I'll be right back with that."

"Thanks," Dean nodded as she walked away.

Sam pushed around what was left of his mashed potatoes on his plate as they waited for their dad in silence.

"Are you sure you're not a superhero?" Sam asked. "Like, you know, Batman doesn't have any real superpowers, but he's a superhero. Maybe your power just isn't fully developed yet."

"What are you even talking about?" Dean said staring at this brother, extremely confused. "I don't have superpowers. I have a hard time reading. It's totally different. Can we talk about anything else?"

"Fine," Sam sighed as their Dad rejoined them.

* * *

That night in the dark of their bedroom Sam started to whine.

"I'm _hungry_."

"The kitchen is on the other side of the door, Sam," Dean answered sleepily. "You're a big boy you can get your own snack."

"But _Dean_," Sam whined poking his arm. "There's no food."

"There's plenty to eat in there," Dean mumbled. "I went grocery shopping with Dad three days ago."

"But I don't _want_ any of_ that_ food," Sam continued poking Dean some more. "I don't _like_ that food."

"Nothing I can do about it, Sammy," Dean answered. "It's the middle of the night, just go grab something and shut up. If you don't like what Dad and I pick out, then you should come with us or tell us what you want. We're not mind readers."

"I want an apple," Sam said stomping his foot. "There's no apples."

"What do you want me to do, Sam?" Dean said, finally opening his eyes. "I can't create one. Just deal with what's there. We'll get Dad to buy apples next time he goes to the store. There's cereal, and, like, three different bags of chips, cookies, I think there's still microwave popcorn. Pick something, eat it and go back to bed."

"But _Dean."_

"Look," Dean said sitting up. "I'm sorry that there aren't any apples, but I literally can't do anything about it right now. Zero. It's the middle of the night. If you're hungry, pick something else. I'm tired, we both have school in the morning, and I can't fix it."

"Why can't we have a normal house?" Sam whined. "All my friends live in normal houses with fridges with a bunch of food in them. But we always live in lame places and we never have any apples."

"Look, kid," Dean said pushing himself up onto his elbows. "It wouldn't matter if we lived in a mansion with a white picket fence and big back yard or one of the crappy motel rooms we usually live in, because in zero of those houses would there be apples. Because you didn't tell me you wanted apples when we went grocery shopping. So either suck it up and go back to bed, or pick something else, eat it, and go back to bed. I'm tired. I don't want to fight with you. Grow up, Sammy. You're not a baby anymore, stop acting like one."

"I'm not being a baby," Sam protested. "I'm hungry and we don't got any food."

"Why don't you go wake up Dad so you can complain to him about it?" Dean asked punching his pillow and lying back down. "Because I'm not dealing with you again until the suns out."

Dean heard Sam sigh and sulk off toward the kitchen. That kid didn't know anything about being hungry. He didn't know how many meals Dean skipped to keep that kid fed. There was always food for Sam even when there wasn't any money left to feed them. Sam didn't get it, and Dean hoped he never would, but man could that little kid complain. Dean understood, to a certain point, that Sam was as much a spoiled brat as their living conditions allowed. He never wanted for anything, got everything he asked for. Dean would gladly give up anything for him, but seriously, that little boy could be a bigger pain in the ass than Dean thought anyone that size could be.

Dean heard the door open again and Sam huff as he climbed back into bed; crunching away at the Chips Ahoy Dean could smell from across the room.

"All better?" Dean whispered softly.

"This will do, I guess," Sam sighed back. "I still want an apple though."

Dean rolled his eyes and rolled over to face the wall, thinking of ways to get his dad to give him five extra dollars before school to buy his annoying kid brother a bag of apples.


	16. Chapter 16

John ended up taking his boys with him to Maryland the Saturday before Christmas, with a promise to be back at the little apartment by New Years. To be honest, Dean was pretty excited about the werewolf hunt. He'd seen _a lot_ of horror movies in his short life, so he felt like he could actually be some help on this hunt.

"I know all about werewolves, Dad," Dean insisted after Sam had finally fallen asleep in their motel room base camp. "I can help you. I know you gots to shoot them with silver bullets and they only come out on a full moon. So we only got one night to find it and get it. Right Dad?"

"Yeah, Dean," John half smiled. "That's right, but I can't take you with me."

"But Dad," Dean whined. "I can be real good. I can shoot all the cans off the fence posts every time. I'll be a big help. I won't get in the way. I promise."

"Who'll watch Sam while we're out?" John asked tipping his head.

"If we wait til he passes out, then salt and lock the doors," Dean answered wide eyed. "As long as were back before sun up, he'll never know. He sleeps pretty good unless he gets hungry or has a nightmare. But he hasn't had a nightmare in a while. So he'll be fine."

"As brilliant and thought out as that plan sounds," John said sarcastically. "I'm not leaving your brother alone in a motel room overnight."

"Why not?" Dean asked. "You used to leave me alone with Sam in motel rooms all the time when I was his age, even littler, too. Sam can take care of himself for a couple hours without me hovering over him. He's not a baby. He's in second grade. He can feed himself and everything. _Please_ Dad! I just want to help out. Just this once. I was a really good help that one time I went with you. You said so. I can do it again. _Please_ Dad."

"I'll sleep on it," John said watching the hope and light in Dean's eyes. "Decide in the morning. Get ready for bed."

"Alright!" Dean jumped up excitedly and dug through his duffle for his pajamas. He was going to go on this hunt with Dad, he knew it. He was going to show his dad that he was good at something. That he was worth his weight. Dean was going to make his Dad proud.

* * *

The next morning Dean did his best to help his dad plot on the map he had taped to the wall. He pressed pins into where the werewolf had attacked, pointing out a pattern and possible kill zone. Together they even found pattern in the kills, and identified a possible location of attack.

"See Dad," Dean smiled. "I'm a good helper. I can help out a lot. You should take me with you."

"I said I'd think about it," John answered. "And I'm thinkin' about it. But you're right, you've been a big help. I'm just not sure what to do with Sammy. It don't feel right leaving him here alone."

"He'll be asleep," Dean coaxed. "He'll be fine. He's not a baby anymore, Dad."

"I'll keep thinking about it," John replied. "We got a few hours yet before we have to leave."

Dean did his best to stay out of the way, making Sam lunch while his brother sat in front of the television. He'd learned the hard way not to ask too many questions. He wasn't a big fan of being yelled at for trying too hard. Sam seemed oblivious to what was going on in the room around him. Dean figured it that this was Sam's normal. The weird maps and symbols all over the walls were as regular to him as front yard flower gardens were to his classmates.

"Would you be upset if I let you have the room to yourself for a couple hours tonight?" John asked while the boys ate macaroni and cheese side by side while watching TV. "If I took Dean out with me for a little bit?"

"Are you going shooting?" Sam asked plastic fork stopping midair between the bowl and his mouth.

John nodded.

"Then I don't care," Sam answered. "I don't like shooting, cuz Uncle Bobby took us shooting that one time, and he wanted us to shoot the animals. So I don't like it. If you're going to the movies or somethin' then it's not fair. But I don't care if you're shooting."

"See!" Dean exclaimed, almost dropping his lunch off his lap with excitement. "Sammy don't care."

"We'll talk about it after dinner," John nodded. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean smiled nodding. He was definitely going on this hunt. He'd finally have something to show his dad he could be good at; he'd have that smile on this face that he had when Sam brought home report cards and A+ tests. This was going to be Dean's thing.

* * *

"You understand the rules?" John asked standing over Sam who sat very still on his bed.

"Yes, sir," Sam nodded.

"What are they?" John asked.

"Don't leave the room, even for ice," Sam stated. "Just stay here and watch TV. Don't touch the salt lines. Don't stay up all night. Don't answer the door for anyone except you or Dean. And don't eat all the ice cream in the little freezer."

"And if Dean and I aren't back in the morning?"

"Call Uncle Bobby," Sam nodded. "But don't freak out, cuz everything's fine."

"Good," John said ruffling Sam's hair. "We'll be back before you wake up, alright. Just behave."

"I will, don't worry," Sam nodded.

"Let's go," John said turning toward Dean as he shouldered the duffle full of guns and silver bullets and headed out the door.

"How much ya wanna bet Sam's still awake when we get back with the ice cream box empty on his lap watching TV?" Dean laughed as he opened the door to the Impala.

"I'd say that has a one hundred percent chance of happening," John chuckled dropping the duffle into the trunk.

* * *

John and Dean drove to the outskirts of the town toward a wooded area. The locals liked to hike out there, even if it was December, the manager at the motel they were staying at told John that there were always people hiking and camping out there. John handed Dean a shotgun after loading it, checking that his own was loaded as well and motioned for Dean to follow him.

This hunt was so different from the first one Dean was on. He wasn't just bait this time; he was a vital part of finding the thing.

"Just be careful, alright?" John said as they entered the woods. "Follow me and keep an eye out for anything moving, okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I can do that."

"Do not shoot anything unless I tell you to," John warned.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, trying to hide his excitement.

They walked until they found a clearing, where a couple had set up a camper; a still warm fire pit not too far away from the front door.

"This is probably where it'll attack," John whispered to Dean. "What should we be looking for?"

"Well," Dean said thinking back to the werewolf lesson he'd been giving in the car on the way over. "The wolf won't be out until the moon is higher, so we just have to wait a while. And it doesn't look like a real wolf. It looks like a guy, but it acts like a wolf, so we're looking for a person acting weird and wondering around in the dark, with weird eyes. Right?"

"Pretty much," John half smiled. "Good job. Nothing to do but wait."

* * *

Dean fell asleep slumped against a tree, waiting was boring, he snapped awake when his dad tapped him on the sole of his boot.

"Wake up," John whispered. "I think we got something."

"Over behind the camper?" Dean asked rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand while grabbing the shotgun with the other. "The shadow?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Be quiet and follow me."

Dean did as he was told, sneaking behind, gun raised, mocking his father's movements as they got closer. They moved slowly, to make sure they didn't draw attention to themselves. Dean ended up walking next to his father instead of behind him, John didn't notice until it was almost too late.

Dean stepped on a twig, the snap sounding louder than it should have in the complete silence of the winter woods. The wolf heard them turned quickly, teeth bared, growling, and lunged at Dean.

"Out of the way!" John yelled shoving Dean to the side before firing a shot.

Dean dropped his gun as he held both hand straight out in front of him to break his fall, his left landed hard on a rock taking the brunt of his body weight as he fell. He heard his arm snap as the gunshot echoed off into the distance. He rolled over, gripping his arm and moaning in pain.

"What the hell!" an unfamiliar voice yelled. "Can you not see we're camping here?"

"Sorry," John said quickly. "Got caught up in the hunt!"

"You shouldn't be hunting around here," the camper said. "Too many people around, seriously!"

"Sorry," John answered. "We're leaving; think we scared it off anyway."

A door slammed and Dean tried to push himself up, but his arm was unquestionably broken. He slammed his head back against the frozen ground and pulled his arm across his chest.

"Get up," John sighed.

"I can't," Dean moaned.

"What do you mean you can't," John scoffed. "Get the fuck up."

"I can't my arm hurts," Dean answered.

"You're fine," John sighed. "Get up."

"No, Dad," Dean whined. "I think it's broken. I fell on to a rock when you pushed me out of the way. I can't get up."

John rolled his eyes and walked over, he grabbed Dean's other hand, hauling him to his feet.

"Did you get it?" Dean asked as his father examined his arm. He winced and pulled away.

"No," John answered. "Scared it good, but I didn't kill it. Have to try again tomorrow, maybe next month. But at least it didn't kill anyone tonight."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "You think it's broken?"

"Gotta take you to the hospital," John sighed. "We'll go get your brother so he doesn't freak out then take you to the ER."

"You can't just fix it?" Dean asked.

"I'm not messing with broken bones, Dean," John sighed as he turned and started out of the woods. "Let's go. Don't forget your gun."

* * *

"How do you break your arm shooting tin cans?" Sam asked skeptically as the three of them sat in the cramped office while the doctor looked over Dean's arm.

"I told you," Dean sighed. "I tripped and fell on a rock. It was an accident."

"Could have been hurt a lot worse," The doctor said. "Especially with a gun in your hands. You have to be a lot more careful in the future. Let's get you down to X-ray to check it out."

Dean nodded, holding his arm close to him as he hopped down from the exam table and followed the old man out into the hall down to x-ray.

It turned out that both bone in his forearm had broken, resulting in a dark green cast that went up just past his elbow.

"When you get back home," The doctor told John while Dean showed off the cast to his brother. "Call your pediatrician and set up an appointment to look at his arm. He's going to have to go to the doctor in about three weeks to check on his progress. Just watch him, the rough housing. With boys that age I'm sure that'll be a difficult task."

John chuckled because he was supposed to and looked over at his boys.

"Dean," he sighed like it pained him. "Stop karate chopping Sam with your cast."

"Good luck," the doctor smiled, handing John some paper work. "Eloise in reception will check you out."

"Let's go," John said gesturing to the boys.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand with his free one and pulled him along out of the office. He'd really messed up this time. All he wanted to do was make his dad proud and he messed up everything. The werewolf got away, he'd gotten hurt. His dad was clearly pissed. Dean knew he'd never hear the end of how much he'd screwed up for the next month until his dad could get the werewolf. But what was one more thing for him to feel bad about, he figured.


	17. Chapter 17

School was hard enough when Dean had full use of both arms. Dean struggled to finish his project on Alexander Graham Bell at the kitchen table; trying to keep the books open with his cast while writing as neatly as he could on notebook paper. Hopefully, Mr. Harrington understood that he couldn't make the paper look neat when he couldn't hold the paper still when he wrote on it.

The other kids at school thought Dean's cast was pretty cool. No one really questioned it when he said he broke it on a werewolf hunt. Mr. Harrington even laughed when Dean told him, chalked it up to wild imagination. Dean kind of liked the attention he got from his classmates, how they all wanted to sign his cast and stuff. He'd never really had that before.

Dean never really noticed how much he used his left hand until he couldn't. Opening doors, reading the text books, making dinner for Sammy and Dad, all of a sudden became ten times harder but since it was his fault that his arm was broken there was no use in asking for help. Sam tried to the best he could, but being seven, it was more being in the way than actually helping.

"I can do it Dean!" Sam argued as Dean pushed Sam out of the kitchen while he tried to make spaghetti with one hand. "I've seen you do it a million billion times."

"No," Dean said seriously. "Just get out of my way. You're not helping."

"Dean!" Sam whined, planting his feet on the threshold and pushing his back against his brother as Dean tried to shove him out of the room.

"Knock it off," John groaned from the other room. "Just let Sam help and stop messing around before you break something else. You know he won't stop unless you just let him."

"Fine," Dean huffed, stepping back quickly so Sam stumbled backward and almost fell over. "Just fill the pot with water and stick it on the stove. Then get out of the way."

"No," Sam said shaking his head. "I can stir it and everything. I can do it. I bet I'll be really good at cooking. I watched you do it. If you can do it, it can't be too hard."

"Thanks, jerkface," Dean said rolling his eyes.

"No, if you can do it with one arm it can't be that hard," Sam corrected. "Not that it wasn't hard cuz you're stupid or nothing."

"If you want to help, you'll stop talking," Dean sighed.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said softly. "I didn't mean to be mean to you."

"Whatever just get the pots so we can do this," Dean grumbled.

"Okay," Sam nodded climbing into the cabinet to find the pots they'd been using for spaghetti while they lived in that apartment.

Dean stood back and watching Sam climb up onto the counter to get the boxes Angel Hair pasta out of the cabinet.

"How was you gonna break this in half to fit in the pot with one hand?" Sam asked seriously as he tossed the boxes across to Dean before hopping down.

"I've managed before," Dean answered.

"Nuh-huh," Sam snorted. "We've been having elbows or spiral macaroni since you broke your arm. You don't gotta break that in half."

"Then we woulda had one of those for dinner," Dean mocked.

"We don't _have_ anymore," Sam said sticking out his tongue. "We only gots this and the gross noddley soup things."

"Whatever," Dean sighed. "Just put it in the water so you can get out of the way and let me finish so you don't hurt yourself."

"Dean," John called from the other room. "Come here a minute."

Dean turned on his heels and walked over to his dad who was sitting in front of the TV in the living room, leaning on to the coffee table writing in his journal.

"Yes, sir?"

"Why wouldn't you let Sammy help?" John asked dropping his pen down on the page he was writing.

"Cuz it's _my_ job to make dinner," Dean answered. "You asked me to do it. So I was doing it."

"What's the harm in getting some help?" John said. "You only got one arm. Sammy's just trying to help, Buddy. He's being nice."

"I don't need help," Dean said irritably, looking at the floor. "I've been doing just fine without Sammy being in the way. He's taking over and climbing on everything. He can't even reach the stove all the way. He has to stand on a chair."

"Dean," John said softly, pressing his thumb under Dean's chin to make the boy look at him. "You have one arm. Just let Sam do it, supervise to make sure he doesn't catch himself on fire or burn everything, but let him do it. He'll probably get bored waiting for the water to boil anyway."

"But it's my job," Dean mumbled. "I'm supposta do it."

"It's okay to have help," John said. "You don't have to be so tough."

"But," Dean said shifting weight from one foot to the other. "If _you_ have a job, you don't just let someone else do it."

"No," John smiled. "But sometimes I ask for help, from your Uncle Bobby or somebody else that does the same job as me. You're not not doing it, Buddy. You're just getting help cuz it's hard to do with one hand. It's fine."

Dean exhaled loudly. "Okay I guess. But he's gonna burn it or ruin it."

"Not if you supervising," John smiled. "Go help."

Dean nodded and ran back into the kitchen to watch Sam who had a kitchen chair pressed up against the stove stirring spaghetti. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"If you stir it too much, it won't cook," Dean said leaning against the stove next to Sam. "You just kinda gotta let it be for a while."

"Okay!" Sam said taking the spoon out and placing it on the stove. "When do you start the sauce? Do we have meatballs? Do you think we can make spaghetti and meatballs?"

"Check the freezer," Dean answered. "If we got 'em you can cook 'em."

"Yes!" Sam said excited, fist pumping into the air jumping from the chair and skipped over the freezer. "We do have some left! Like half a bag. Is that enough?"

Dean nodded, "Bring 'em over, grab another pot for the sauce. I'll open it so you don't cut yourself."

Sam nodded and climbed back into the cabinet for the sauce pot as Dean found the can of sauce in the cabinet. Maybe it wasn't so bad having someone help him. Maybe if Sam liked helping making dinner he could do it all the time. It would be easier, especially until he got his cast off. They did make a good team. His dad was right, it wasn't hurting anything to let Sam help a little bit; kid seemed to be enjoying himself. It was kind fun, actually.

"How do you know when it's ready?" Sam asked as he stirred the meatballs and sauce.

"When you can cut the meatballs with the spoon," Dean answered. "They're, like, pre-cooked so you only gotta warm them up so they're not frozen. So it only takes about ten minutes."

"What about the spaghetti?"

"That's a little harder," Dean replied. "Sometimes you gotta taste it, or you can pull a piece out and throw it at the wall and if it sticks then it's gotta be cooked more, but that wastes a lot, so I just kinda guess usually."

"Can we do the throwing?" Sam asked excitedly.

"In a little bit," Dean said looking down into the pot. "It's not really close yet. It's gets whiter and fluffier when it's close to done."

"Can you teach me how to cook more things?" Sam asked as he put the spoon down on the stove again.

"I don't really know how to cook much," Dean said. "But yeah, if you want."

"I'd like that a lot," Sam nodded. "I like to help. I wanna learn to do all the cool stuff you do to help dad and stuff.

"I guess I can do that then," Dean smiled. "S'long as ya keep doing good in school and stuff. It'll be like a reward. How 'bout that."

"I like it," Sam agreed.

Dean smiled as Sam turned back to making dinner. He decided to set the table since Sam had the cooking under control for a few minutes. When he turned he saw his dad watching them from the doorway, a happy little smile on his face.


	18. Chapter 18

The summer after Sam turned eight, John took the boys to Mississippi for the summer. A friend of a friend had a poltergeist problem and a summer house half a mile from the Gulf of Mexico. The boys had seen the ocean a couple times, but they always seemed to be on the coast in the winter.

"We get to say down there for the whole day? Sam bounces along between Dean and John.

"Yeah," John nodded. "If the two of you can behave yourselves we can."

"For real?!" Sam squealed.

"Yes, Sam," John answered.

"You mean we get to go swimming in the ocean?" Sam asked.

"If you ask me one more time," John answered. "Dean and I will, and you'll be spending the day back at the house."

"Okay," Sam nodded, running ahead. "I'm just really excited."

"Figured," John smiled switching the heavy cooler from one and to the other as Sam skipped a few yards ahead. "You pack the sunscreen with the towels and stuff?"

"I don't need it," Dean said shaking his head. "I'll be fine. I packed extra towels and clothes for me and Sammy though."

"You're gonna be a tomato before lunch," John warned. "I'm not going to listen to you complain when your all sun-burnt."

"I'll be fine." Dean repeated.

"You got your mom's complexion kiddo," John advised. "You'll burn if you're in the sun too long. I promise ya."

"Mom and you went to the beach?" Dean asked softly. He knew how much his dad didn't like to talk about his mom; how upset it made him.

"Once," John answered, smiling sadly. "You were three, maybe, summer before Sam was born, so you had to be three, took you on vacation with us to Texas." John chuckled to himself and looked down at Dean as they kept walking. "You were chasing this little crab along the shore line, picked up. It… ah… it chomped down on your finger and you were screaming crying, ran over to us. Pulled the thing off your hand but you were still screaming, people were starting to stare at us. Your Ma, she… ah… she pulled you into her lap and kissed your little finger and you just stopped. Everything was fine. Ran back off to find more rocks or whatever you were doin'.Little momma's boy, you were."

"It was fun?" Dean asked. "That one time we had at the beach, you, me, and her?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "A lot of fun. Does, ah… does… Sam ask about her?"

"When he was little," Dean answered as the finally reached the beach. It was still early so there weren't too many people there yet. Sam had already found the perfect place the set up their base camp for the day, and was waiting as patiently as and excited eight year old could. "When he first started school and realized that we didn't have something that everyone else did. He asked if I was him mom once. Set him straight pretty quick, though. He hasn't asked about her in a few years. He used to say he could see her, like her ghost or something. He said she would watch him sleep and it kinda freaked him out. But he hasn't said anything 'bout that in a _long_ time."

John nodded and planted the cooler in the sand and took the duffle from Dean's shoulder, instructing the boys to lay out the blankets.

"Hurry!" Sam yelled waving them over to the spot he picked out.

"The ocean's not going anywhere, Sammy," John said. "Deep breathes."

"You think we'll see a whale?" Sam asked breathlessly. "We learned all about whales in science class. They live in the ocean and eat invisible weird things called plankton and stuff."

"They live way out in the ocean, not at the beach," Dean answered.

"Haven't you ever heard of a _beached whale_?" Sam spat sticking out his tongue.

"Yeah," Dean smirked. "There's one over there."

Dean pointed to a very large man in a very small bathing suit near the water and laughed.

"Dean," John sighed. "Be nice."

Dean rolled his eyes and helped lay out the blanket on the beach.

"Maybe a shark!" Sam exclaimed.

"Hopefully not," Dean said swallowing hard.

"When can we go in the water?" Sam asked impatiently. "I wanna go swimming."

"Go," John nodded. "Just stay where I can see you, and don't go too far out."

Sam nodded; then grabbed Dean's arm "Come on, Dean, let's go!"

"Yeah," Dean said pulling his arm back. "Calm down, it'll be there in two minutes. Slow your horses."

"I don't wanna calm down," Sam said. "I wanna go swimming."

Dean rolled his eyes and followed after Sam who ran out fast as he could ahead of him, straight to the water. Dean watched as Sam hit the water, splashing up around him. He could imagine the huge smile on the kid's face. He stood with his toes barely in the water as Sam jumped and screamed and laughed in the water.

"Come on!" Sam called over the roar of the ocean. "You're missing all the fun!"

"I'm good," Dean yelled back, arms crossed against his chest. "You keep playing, I'm fine here."

* * *

It took less than five minutes for Sam to decide that ocean was a horrible idea. He was standing with his back to the water smiling and waving at Dean when a wave over took him. He came up spitting sand and gasping for air. Dean was in the water before the next wave rolled in, pulling Sam out and dropping him on the shore.

Sam sprawled out dramatically, coughing.

"You alright?" Dean asked frantically. "Say something."

"I hate the ocean," Sam coughed. "I wanna go home now."

"Alright," Dean nodded, smiling a little. "Let's go up to the blanket and sit with Dad for a while."

"Okay," Sam said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I really do hate the ocean. We gotta tell Dad to not live at the ocean again."

"You can tell him," Dean chuckled extending his hand to pull Sam to his feet.

The boys ran together back up the blanket where John was sitting back to the concrete wall writing away in his journal.

"Daaaaaaad," Sam screeched before collapsing on the blanket in the most dramatic fashion Dean had ever seen. "The ocean is stupid. We should move away."

"Why," John laughed. "What happened?"

"I drowned," Sam sighed. "Dean saved my life. I ate, like, all the sand in the whole ocean. The rest of the sand is in my pants. Stupid ocean."

"Alright," John nodded. "You don't wanna stay for the rest of the day? The whole trip down here was your idea, kiddo."

"I guess we can stay for a little while," Sam sighed like it pained him. "But I don't wanna go back in the water."

"I packed a Frisbee and a football," Dean suggested. "We can throw it around if you want."

"No," Sam said rolling onto his stomach. "I need to recover from my near death experience. I have a book in the bag."

"I'll throw around if you want," John said, tucking his journal into the duffle.

"Really?" Dean asked skeptically. "You wanna play catch with me?"

"Yeah," John said side-arming the football over to the twelve year old. "Why not?"

Dean had never played catch with his dad. Bobby had taught him how to throw a ball when he was in first grade when his dad was off hunting some monster out west. Bobby had shown him how to throw a spiral between rows or junk cars two summers ago when John was in Florida helping to clean up a mess another hunter made. John didn't know that Dean could throw a curve or was teaching himself how to throw a knuckle ball. John didn't know that Dean kind of wanted to join the baseball team but was afraid they'd have to pack up and move out halfway through the season.

"Alright," Dean smiled as big as he could, eyes lighting up. "Yeah, let's do that."

* * *

John and Dean found an empty area not far from the blanket so they could keep an eye on Sam, who was now sitting where his dad was against the wall reading some book he picked up at the local library the day before. Dean's left arm still wasn't at full strength; the doctor's in Delaware told John that he needed physical therapy, but John decided there was better ways to build the muscle back up besides paying someone to watch Dean lift weights. There was still a visibly difference in size, but it was getting better. Dean wasn't sure how easy it would be to catch with his weakened arm, but as long as he was playing catch with his dad, it didn't matter.

They tossed it back and forth a few times, a first normal moment Dean could remember having with his dad since before they started hunting.

"Got quite and arm on ya kid," John smiled. "Where'd you learn to throw like that?"

"Bobby," Dean said, tossing the ball to his father.

"Oh," John nodded, throwing back. "Good guy, Bobby. He… ah… what else he teach ya? All the important stuff, I'm guessing."

"Not really," Dean shrugged. "Ride a bike, throw a ball, I taught Sammy all that stuff."

"Shouldn't've had to do that," John replied. "He's a good kid though, Sam? I know he does good in school, but he's good?"

"He doesn't know," Dean answered. "If that's what you're asking. He asks why we move so much, but I usually make something up. I just remember being little like that, having to keep that kind of secret is hard. So it's better if he just doesn't know. I mean, like, he knows how mom died and stuff, but not, like, that a monster got her."

John nodded.

They tossed the ball and forth in silence for a while.

"Do you think," Dean said carefully. "Do you think that maybe, maybe you could tell me about her? You know, in case Sam asks. I mean like, I don't remember much but I want Sam to know about her and stuff. But you can only tell the kid she smelled like cookies and taught me to read so many times before he realizes I'm just as clueless as he is. I mean, I know you don't like talking about her, but it would be nice. To have something to tell him if he asks more questions. You know?"

"Yeah," John smiled sadly. "Yeah, I can do that. Whatcha wanna know."

Dean was caught off guard by his father's answer, and almost dropped the ball. Maybe he was possessed or something, this guy standing across from him wasn't the dad he'd gotten used to over the years. This, he wasn't sure who this guy, but he hoped he stayed around for a while.

"I don't know," Dean blushed. "Just what was she like?"

"She was," John smiled. "She was great. Smart, like Sammy, quick witted, like you, beautiful, loved you boys more than anything. All she ever wanted was the family, white picket fence, two kids and dog, you know, normal life."

"Exact opposite of what we got now," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah," John nodded. "Something like that. Hey, um, you getting hungry, let's head back to the blanket, break into those sandwiches."

"Sure," Dean nodded, tucking the ball under his arm and following his dad back to the blanket.

John reached behind him and draped his arm around Dean's shoulders. Dean squirmed a little from the contact.

"Told ya you'd burn," John laughed. "Listen, next time, huh?"

"Yes, sir." Dean shifted awkwardly as John guided him by the back of the neck to the blanket.

"Ready for lunch, Sammy," John called to the younger boy still sitting up against that wall. "Dean, after lunch, you wanna go over to the little convenience store up the block and grab sun screen."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yes, sir, of course."

"Probably should pick up some aloe too," John smiled. "You're gonna be sore in the morning, but I hear you complaining, you'll be doing extra exercises for your arm, it was your own fault."

* * *

Dean nodded, of course it day at the beach was one of the best days in Dean's short life. Watching Sam smile like that, the happiness in his eyes, playing with his dad, of course he would ruin it by being pig headed. He ate his sandwich looking between his dad and little brother watching Sam theatrically retell his "near death experience" most of what Sam said was completely made up, but John smiled and laughed at the right spots. As long as Sam was happy it would all be okay. The day wasn't lost if he could go get sunscreen and keep Sam from becoming crispy.

After lunch Sam wanted to swim again, but only if Dean went in the water with him.

"I'll just stand here," Dean called out to Sam who was pleading for Dean to join him. "Have fun, it's cool."

"Come on!" Sam whined. "It'll be more fun with you."

"It's fine," Dean nodded. "All good. Plenty of fun right here."

"Dean," his dad said pressing hand to the small of his back. "It's okay; I'll watch you both, go swim."

"I'm good," Dean nodded.

"Can you swim kiddo?" John asked softly.

Dean shook his head quickly. "Sam learned in at the Y in Minnesota, but I was playing baseball with some of the older kids. So, I didn't get to learn. I'm good here, just watching."

"Come on, Dean," Sam yelled. "It's fun."

"Just go splash with Sam," John said tenderly. "Don't go above your knees and don't turn your back to the waves and you'll be fine. Next place we stay at, I'll… I'll make sure it's got a pool. I'll teach you to swim. Sound fair?"

"Yeah, I guess," Dean said, confusion thick in his voice. "Why are you being so nice?"

"What?" John laughed.

"You've been really nice today, it's weird," Dean replied. "I mean, like, you're not usually all 'I'll teach you to swim' and 'I'll play catch with you' and 'sure I'll tell you whatever you want about Mom.' It's weird."

"You want me to, yell at you?" John said rolling his eyes, the first glimpse of the father he'd gotten use to all day. "I'm trying to have a good day at the beach with my boys. I'm sorry it's too much for you."

"No, it's just," Dean tried. "It's just, weird." Dean sighed and turned back toward his brother in the water. He took a calculated step forward into the water. Sam almost immediately tackled Dean into the water. Dean struggled to keep his head about the water.

"This is why I didn't want to play with you," Dean groaned rolling out from under Sam. "Don't be such a little punk Sam." He ran back up to beach past John.

Dean flopped down on the blanket waiting the sun beating down on the back that he still hadn't put sunscreen on. He deserved to burn now, being twelve and not knowing how to swim, should have taught himself. Leave it to Dean to ruin the best day the Winchesters had had in eight years with his own stupidity.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N Sorry the last few chapters, (including this one) are kind of horrible, I've hit a wall writer's block and I've been trying to power through it to get to the next big plot idea I have in my head. I hope anyone reading this still likes it. I'm doing my best to keep it interesting._

* * *

The plan was to live on the Gulf until Mid-August before packing up again. There weren't any pressing hunts, and it didn't seem worth it to pull the boys away from this vacation to spend another summer in South Dakota now that they knew about the beach. They'd head up to Bobby's for Christmas, John decided. Both boys were sporting various shades of pink all summer; Sam's turning to a golden tan, Dean's bordering on sun-burnt most days and slowly turning into a freckly mess as the summer dragged on the way it does when you're too young to notice how short it really is. Sam fell in love with the ocean, its power and beauty, which meant Dean spent most days sitting on the sandy shore watching his little brother have the time of his life. He outright refused to go back into the water after that first day. He wasn't going to die like that, with salt water up his nose struggling to breathe, but Sam like it, even found himself a little Styrofoam boogie board to ride waves on.

John found odd jobs around town to keep them stationary for the summer. He worked part time at an auto body shop and as a handy man for the local hotel. He was able to keep the fridge stocked and get the boys some much needed new shoes and school clothes that actually fit that weren't from the racks at the Goodwill but from an "actual store", as Sam like the call Kmart, even had enough to give the boys some pocket money most days. Even though Dean knew it wouldn't last long, it was nice, stable, he felt happy, actually happy, for the first time in a very long time. His dad was calm, unstressed, to Dean this was the best gift the summer had given him.

While sitting against the cement wall at the beach absentmindedly building sand castles and watching Sam read, a boy about Dean's age approached holding a basketball.

"Hey," the kid called over. "You play? We need another guy for three on three."

"Kinda," Dean answered. "But I gotta keep track of my kid brother."

"The courts on the other side of the playground," the kid said. "My little sister's up there if you want to join us. My parents are always all up in my business about watching my sister; the playground's all fenced in and stuff."

Dean looked over to Sam for permission.

"You should," Sam nodded. "We've been doing what I want all summer."

"You don't mind getting off the beach?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "I can read anywhere."

"Yeah, I'll play. I'm Dean."

"Chris," the kid answered while Dean pushed himself up out of the sand and wiped his sandy hands on his shorts. "The court's just over there," he pointed beyond the in closed playground on the other side of the cement wall. "Come on."

Sam shadowed close behind as Dean and Chris walked side by side to the courts getting to know each other.

"I'll be in sixth grade in September," Chris said. "Are you living here or just here for the summer? I've seen you at the beach a bunch of times."

"I don't know," Dean answered. "My dad moves us around a lot. I don't know if my dad has plans for when school starts up again or not."

"Oh," Chris nodded. "My friend, Eric, he's gonna play with us, his mom's in the army, he moves around all the time too."

"My dad's a marine," Dean offered. "So… umm… who else is playing?"

"Just some guys from school," Chris said. "Usually we play three on three: towies versus vacationers but a lot of the vacationers have already gone home, so it's just guys from school."

"Cool," Dean said nodding.

"I've seen ya hanging around the beach," Chris said. "I was gonna ask you to play with us a few weeks ago when you were all by yourself, but then I saw your little brother running up and I figured you were busy."

"We've never got to live on the ocean during the summer," Dean said as they reached the courts. "So Sammy's been a little bit excited about it."

"Don't worry," Chris smiled. "If you end up sticking around, it's not as awesome after you lived here for a while."

"I think that's why my dad likes to move so much," Dean said. "He gets bored being in one place to long."

"Hey Dean," Sam called from behind. "Can I play on playground while you're playing basketball?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Sure, just don't do anything dumb and _do not_ wander off."

"Okay!" Sam called as he turned and ran toward the chain link fence surrounding the playground.

* * *

Chris introduced Dean to the other boys; Eric, Billy, Ryan, and Charlie, all boys that went to the local middle school with Chris. They split into two teams, and flipped a quarter to see who got the ball first. It was weird how easily Dean fell right into step with these boys, like he'd known them forever. He wasn't very good at basketball, he'd only really played in gym class, but he fit in well, none of the other boys were superstars either. It was fun, running, laughing, feeling like he was a part of something. Dean hadn't felt like that, ever, now that he thought about it. He's always been on the outside looking in. But that was what the life their dad chose for them was like. He'd never been around long enough to matter. No one really kept score, when the game was over both teams claimed victory.

* * *

"Are we grabbin' ice cream?" Eric asked as the boys stood around one of the hoops passing around a water bottle after the game was over.

"Yeah," Charlie answered. "You in Dean?"

"Umm, sure, yeah," Dean nodded. "I just gotta bring my kid brother.

"Chris's sister tags along too," Billy said. "It's cool."

"Alright," Dean smiled. "I'll go get him."

Dean and Chris ran together over to the chain link fence surrounding the playground.

"How old is your brother?" Chris asked. "Amanda's nine."

"Sammy's eight," Dean answered.

"So they wouldn't be in the same class then," Chris said. "I don't think."

"He'd be in third grade this year," Dean answered. "Sam, come here!" he called.

"Amanda!" Chris yelled. "Ice cream time."

Sam and a blonde girl a little taller than him, presumably Amanda, came running over from the swings.

"Are we getting ice cream?" Sam asked excitedly. "Dad said we could after lunch. He gave you money right?"

"Yes," Dean nodded. "If you want, we're gonna go to the ice cream place up the block with the guys I played basketball with."

"Are you going?" Sam asked the little blonde girl.

"Yeah," Amanda answered.

"Then I guess so," Sam half smiled.

The gang of kids walked down the block to the ice cream stand, after ordering they all gathered around one of the picnic tables and talked.

"I got the letter from the school yesterday," Billy said. "I'm gonna be in Mrs. Travis's class. You guys here anything?"

"Travis," Chris said high fiving Billy.

"Travis," Charlie said.

"Travis," Ryan said through a mouth full of ice cream.

"Brown," Eric sighed.

Ryan pushed Eric's shoulder and laughed. "Figures, put the brainiac in the other class so we can't cheat off him."

Eric rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that's exactly why they did that. Do you know whose class you're in Dean?"

"Umm…" Dean started. "I don't even know if we're staying in town when school starts."

"Weird," Charlie laughed. "School starts in, like, a week and half."

"My dad gets restless," Dean shrugged. "It depends if he finds a job nearby or not. We move around a lot."

"How do you do school if you move around so much?" Ryan asked.

"Same way I did, genius," Eric teased. "Probably end up in a couple schools a year, right? Then sometimes you're in a place for a while and you start to settle in then your dad uproots everything? That's how it is when my mom was in active duty. Moved allover everywhere every couple of years."

"Kinda," Dean shrugged trying to be mysterious. "My dad just travels a lot for his job, so we go with him."

Dean kept watching Sammy out of the corner of his eye, laughing with the little girl he'd just met, chocolate ice cream all over his face; how he laughed at her jokes and talked about school things, normal kid things that Dean rarely got to do. Sam seemed to be such a natural at it, just being a kid and not caring about what came next. The group stayed at the ice cream stand until the sun started to go down.

"Probably should head home," Chris said pointing up. "Street lights. Meet up tomorrow at noon?"

Each of the other boys nodded and waved as Chris grabbed his sister's hand to take her home.

"You game Dean?" Chris asked before leaving.

"Uh… yeah," Dean nodded. "I can hang out tomorrow."

"Cool," Chris smiled. "See ya then!" He waved to his friends as he started to walk down the sidewalk back home. The rest of the group went on their way soon after, each promising to meet up the next day at the basketball court.

* * *

"We can go the beach in the morning before all the people get there," Sam stated as they walked back home. "Then eat lunch, and then, I'll play on the playground while you play basketball."

"You don't mind?" Dean asked.

"Dean, did you have fun today?" Sam sighed.

"I guess," Dean shrugged.

"You never have fun," Sam announced. "You're always too busy worryin' if _I'm_ having fun. Or if I ate my whole sandwich. Or if I still have all my limbs. Or worrying about somethin'. You get to have fun too, sometimes. It's allowed."

"I just don't want you to be bored all day while I'm havin' fun, is all," Dean shrugged.

"Because sitting on the beach all day gettin' sunburned while I play in the water _isn't _boring," Sam scoffed. "Seriously, Dean."

Dean chuckled. "How'd you get so smart?"

"I think I got it from Mom," Sam smiled, showing off a gap from a missing tooth.

"Funny," Dean laughed, pulling Sam into a head lock as they reached the walk way. "Now go wash up, I'll put something dinner-like together for us."

* * *

John was in front of the television when they got home, cold beer sweating in his hand.

"Where have you two been all day?" he asked, not turning from whatever he was watching.

"We got some ice cream with some local kids," Sam said flopping down next to John as Dean went to the kitchen. "Dean was playing basketball and stuff. There's a playground near the courts. Got off the beach for while."

"Sounds fun," John said taking a long slow drink off this beer.

Dean dug around in the kitchen finding leftovers to microwave for him and Sam. Judging from the dishes in the sink, John had already eaten before they got home. He half listened to his dad and Sam talking in the next room.

"Hey Dad," Sam asked softly, like he didn't want Dean to overhear. "Do you think we could stay here for the school year?"

"Why?" John asked. "You're not getting bored yet?"

"No," Sam answered. "Well, it's just, Dean has friends. Dean _never_ has friends. He played basketball with a group of kids his age and it… he just was havin' fun."

"Yeah," John said. "So you wanna hang out here for a little longer?"

"Til, Christmas break at least," Sam nodded. "I mean, if you want to, cuz you're the boss, but Dean has friends. He never fits in, and he fit in here. He's always sad, and I don't want him to be sad."

"I'll see what I can do," John answered. "I don't like taking this much time off from my real job, but there's gotta be some jobs nearby. I'll talk to Bobby, see what he's got."

"Really?" Sam said excitedly. "You'll really try to let us stay."

"Why not," John shrugged.

"Thanks," Sam said softly. "Don't tell Dean I told you. He doesn't like it when I do that. He likes to think that he's all hard and doesn't care, but I think he really does."

"Alright, little buddy," John said, ruffling Sam's hair. "No problem."

Dean leaned against the fridge looking at the back of their heads on the couch while he waited for the microwave to finish up Sam's dinner and smiled to himself.

He tried so hard to not let anything bother him, to be strong for Sam when he got upset about having to move around, getting ripped from another place. He didn't think Sam ever noticed or cared about how it affected Dean. But that little boy, wise beyond his years, he picked up on everything.

The microwave sounded and Dean pulled out last night's fried chicken and mashed potatoes and shoved a second plate in. He brought Sam over his dinner and left it on the coffee table.

"Eat up kiddo," Dean said, half smiling up at him.

He knew he couldn't say that he overheard what Sam said to their Dad, that the kid would get mad at him if he knew Dean heard, but he was grateful that Sammy had stood up for him. Dean would never have the guts to ask his dad something like that.


	20. Chapter 20

Dean ended up in Mr. Brown's homeroom class with Eric when school started. In this middle school they got to switch teachers between classes and had lockers, most of the kids already had a year of that under their belts, but Dean had never been to a school like that before, so it took a bit of getting used to. He picked up quickly enough with guidance from his new friends. This was an entirely new school experience for him actually having people to eat lunch with, houses to go over to on weekends.

The boys fell into a routine by the third week of school: up early for breakfast and run before school; Sam went to soccer practice and Dean played basketball with his friends until practice was out, back home, hopefully before John so Dean could put some kind of dinner on the table, then homework. It was as close to a normal apple pie life as they'd ever lived. It was bizarre, but it was wonderful.

"The guys think I should join the basketball team," Dean announced with a mouth full of potatoes at dinner one Wednesday night.

"Could be good for ya," John agreed, pointing at Dean with a piece of bread. "I told ya sports would be good for you. Like Sammy and his soccer, how's that going buddy?"

"Fine," Sam said to his plate as he pushed some peas around. "We have a game tomorrow."

"What time?" John asked.

"Right after school," Sam shrugged. "In the big field behind the middle school."

"So, at three?" John asked. "I'll try to be there, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Sure." Sam got up and tossed his plate in the sink, went to the room and slammed the door.

"What's wrong with him?" John asked.

"No idea," Dean shrugged mouth full of meatloaf that Bobby taught him to cook last time they were there. "He was fine earlier."

"Find out, would ya?" John asked.

"Yeah sure," Dean nodded. "I'll try to crack him after I clean up."

"Thank you," John replied. "This is good, you did a good job."

"Thanks, Bobby showed me how to do it," Dean smiled. "Said we should probably eat something 'sides cereal and pizza when we weren't at his house."

"Nice," John chuckled.

"I told him that we sometimes have spaghetti and chicken fingers," Dean continued. "So he dragged me into the kitchen and taught me stuff. I can make some chicken stuff and pork chops, but I'm best at the meatloaf I think. It's pretty easy."

"Just don't burn the house down if I'm not home," John said ruffing Dean's hair.

"I'm very careful," Dean said seriously. "Kitchen safety is very important."

It was hard not to laugh as how serious Dean's face was when he told his father this. It was kind of hilarious the things Dean took seriously, but when he did he put one hundred and ten percent into it, not matter what it was.

* * *

In their bedroom, Sam sat cross legged on his bed writing in a notebook. Dean walked in, closed the squeaky door and flopped down back on his own bed, staring at the ceiling.

"What's goin' on with you?" Dean probed. "You've been all moody lately, like a girl."

"Nothing," Sam mumbled. "I'm not a girl."

"I know you're not," Dean spat back. "But you're _acting_ like one. Somethin' happen at school? At soccer practice?"

"Dad tell you to check up on me?" Sam sighed. "There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine, okay."

"Whatever," Dean sighed. "Don't tell me. Keep being a little bitch see if I care. But if you don't tell me I'm not taking the blame when you piss off Dad and he yells at you."

"Don't be jerk," Sam groaned. "I can take care of myself. Last time I told you about something that happened at school you beat up somebody and Dad almost skinned you. I can deal with it myself."

"Hold up," Dean said pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking over to his brother. "Someone's messing with you at school and you don't think I should know about it?"

"Do you tell me every time someone's a jerk to you?" Sam rolled his eyes. "You don't gotta know everything that happens in my life, Dean."

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean spat back. "I do. I'm supposed to protect you."

"You don't gotta _protected_ me," Sam whined. "I can take care of myself. Just let me take care of myself for _once_ in my life."

"Whatever," Dean said leaning back down so he was flat on his back again. "Just don't get the snot kicked out of you cuz I'm not jumpin' in."

"Maybe…" Sam whispered like their dad was listening on the other side of the door. "Maybe you could teach me how to fight. No listen… like how Dad teaches you. You can teach me so that you don't have to protect me if there's a bully or something."

"I'm not teachin' you to fight," Dean sighed. "Not unless you tell me what's up."

Sam exhaled loudly and went back to his work. "I'm not gonna tell you what's goin' on at school unless you teach me to fight. I bet I'll be really good at it. And you'll be super proud of me, and you'll never have to stand up for me again when I get picked on."

"Look, Sammy," Dean said as patiently as he could. "If some dick at school is being a jerk to you, let me handle it. I got a record at schools for fighting. You don't. You don't need that kind of reputation following you around too. Plus, you're, like, twenty pounds. Unless the kid picking on you is a preschool-er I doubt you could take them."

"Whatever," Sam huffed blowing his hair out of his face. "If you taught me to fight I could gain muscle."

"Not teachin' you to fight, kiddo," Dean repeated. "End of discussion, got it."

"You suck," Sam spat.

"Watch your mouth short stack," Dean spat back.

Sam groaned and started to tap away at his notebook. "Don't you have homework or something?"

"Just some stupid book for English," Dean shrugged. "And I'm not doing it. I can get the answers to the questions if there's a quiz from Chris. His got English right before us. "

"Well, don't just lay there and do nothing it's distracting," Sam whined.

"You're such a freakin' baby," Dean rolled and pushed off the bed. He left the room, slamming the door loudly.

* * *

The next afternoon Dean stood next to the bleachers with his friend Eric watching Sam's soccer game. John, as Dean kind of figured, was nowhere to be found, but at least someone was around to cheer Sam on. He was pretty good actually. Dean though soccer was a lame sport, but Sam took it, he was fast and pretty nimble being so small. He almost scored a goal, before being totally robbed by the goalie.

"Great job out there kiddo!" Dean beamed as Sam came over to him sweating and smiling after the game. "Wanna grab pizza to celebrate? Don't think I got time to throw anything together before Dad gets home."

"Dad didn't bother to show?" Sam asked rolling his eyes. "Figures."

"What's your problem?" Dean sighed. "He has a nine to five, he's doing his best."

"Whatever," Sam sighed. "Pizza's fine let's just get outta here."

"You don't wanna hang with your teammates for a bit?" Dean asked. "We're not in a hurry; pizza place is on the walk home."

"Not really," Sam shrugged. "Let's just go."

"Hey, Winchester!" a voice called from behind them.

Dean felt Sam exhale slowly before turning around.

"What Derek?" Sam answered weakly.

"This the kid that's been bugging you?" Dean asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Don't," Sam warned. "Just let me deal with it, alright?"

"Thought you said your dad was coming out for the game?" Derek smirked. The kid looked like a punk, spiked up white blonde hair, crooked smile, two bigger muscular guys on either side, the kind of kid that looked like he'd gotten away with everything his whole life.

Dean's fists clinched at his sides, he started to step forward but Sam grabbed his wrist.

"He's working," Sam answered. "He'll be at the next one."

"Must suck," Derek chuckled. "Both your parents hating you that much."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, stepping forward as he shook Sam off.

"Let's just go," Sam pleaded tugging at the tail of Dean's coat. "He's not worth it."

Dean let Sam pull him away as the kid started to laugh.

"That's right," Derek laughed loudly. "You got ya big brother to protect you. Big oaf who likes to pick fights. I've heard about you."

"Don't," Sam warned. "He's just a punk kid."

Sam pulled Dean by the arm through the parking lot.

"Who is that?" Dean shouted when they got to the street. "What's he talking about?"

"Just some stupid kid," Sam mumbled. "Nothing to worry about."

"Didn't seem like nothing to worry about," Dean grabbed Sam by the elbow as he tried to walk away. "Is that why you wanna learn to fight? Sammy those guys he hangs with are bigger than me. Are they even in third grade?"

"Derek is," Sam said softly. "His friends are in fourth. I don't have to fight them, just Derek."

"Listen to me," Dean said trying to keep his voice even no matter how much he wanted to grab his brother and shake him. "What was he talking about? Saying your parents hated you? You know Dad doesn't hate you, right? He's working; he wanted to be here for your game."

"I know," Sam said weakly looking at the ground. "Derek… Derek sits behind me in class and we were talking about what our parents did for work for a project, and I said that I didn't know what my mom did, but I don't like telling people that she'd dead because then the teacher, like, takes pity on me and I don't like that. But Derek just started to shake my chair and ask me stupid questions, so finally I just said that she died and at lunch Derek started saying mean things and he just won't leave me alone. But if you teach me to fight, I can just punch him and he'll leave me alone."

"If you punch that kid," Dean said in a warning tone. "You'll get jumped by two kids three times your size."

"But you _can't_ beat up a third grader, Dean," Sam sighed. "You'll go to kid jail. Just let me deal with it. If I keep ignoring him he'll get bored eventually and move on. That's how kids like that work."

"I'm not going to kid jail," Dean sighed. "There's no such thing as kid jail."

"Yes there is!" Sam yelled. "I've heard about it on TV. All the bad kids go there. I don't want you to go to kid jail."

"What does he say about Mom?" Dean pressed, changing the subject. "What does that kid think he knows about our mom?"

"He said that…" Sam started and sighed and tried to walk away.

"Sammy," Dean warned. "What did he say to you?"

"He said Mom left because she hated me," Sam whispered. "That she probably killed herself because she couldn't stand to be around me."

"You know that's not true," Dean said quickly. "That's not what happened."

"She died in _my_ room, right?" Sam mumbled. "Maybe, I don't know."

"It was a fire, Sammy," Dean said pulling Sam's face up to make his brother look him in the eye, the same why their dad did when Dean was acting stubborn and tried to talk to the ground. "It was an accident. That kid doesn't know anything. You understand me?"

Sam nodded and pulled his face away from Dean. "Let's get some food."

Dean couldn't help but stare at Sam the whole time they ate dinner. Sam stared at the table not talking, shrugging noncommittally when John asked a question about the game, letting Dean handle it until he finished and excused himself to do his homework alone in their room.

* * *

"I thought you talked to him," John said quietly to Dean as Sam closed the bedroom door.

"I did," Dean nodded. "He's having a hard time at school. There's this obnoxious bully, is all. He wants me to teach him to fight. It's stupid."

"Maybe you should," John replied. "Teach him to spar, give him some boxing lessons, can't hurt anything."

"Really?" Dean said cautiously. "He's eight, does he really need to know all that stuff?"

"You were younger than him when I started to teach you, right?" John said. "At the very least he learns to defend himself. What's that gonna hurt?"

"Dad," Dean shook his head in disbelief. "He's gonna get himself hurt. Sam's tiny. He's literally the smallest kid in his class. He he's barely four feet tall and can't weight forty-five pounds. He'd get his ass kicked."

"Watch your mouth," John said sternly. "People always under estimate the little ones, they're the scrappiest fighters. Just do as I tell you, alright? Teach the kid to fight."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dean said. "He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know about why we move so much, he doesn't know what you do for work, and I don't want him too. He's too little. I'm gonna keep it from him as long as I can, Dad. He doesn't need that kind of weight on him."

"Can you follow orders?" John asked. Dean nodded. "Did I just give you an order?"

Dean nodded.

"What?"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. "I'll teach him."

"Good," John nodded. "Get this cleaned up and start when you're done with your homework, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded. "Will do."

That was the last thing Dean wanted. Teaching Sam to fight was the worst thing he could ever think of, it would only be a matter of time before he figured everything out. He didn't need to see his kid brother with black eyes and other bruises like he sported at least once every school he went to. He didn't want this life for Sam, but an order was an order and he'd be teaching the kid to punch a mattress in their bedroom as soon as the dishes were done.


	21. Chapter 21

"Dean," Sam whispered into the dark the following night. "Dean… there's… there's something in the closet."

"There's nothing in the closet, go to sleep," Dean mumbled sleepily.

"No I swear," Sam whispered, pushing himself up on his elbows. "I saw it, there's something there."

"Then go check it out," Dean said rolling over to face the wall. "And let me sleep."

"Too scared," Sam replied. Dean could hear his little brother's voice shaking. "What if it's, like, a ghost or something."

"There isn't a ghost," Dean moaned. "It's fine."

"What if it gets me?"

"It's not gonna get you," Dean answered. "There's nothing there."

The boys lay there in silence for a while, Dean listening to Sam's shaky breath as he tried not to cry. Dean let out a long exasperated sigh, flipped the covers off him and stocked over to the closet.

"See, Princess," Dean huffed. "Nothing in the closet."

"Ghosts are invisible, Dean" Sam protested.

Dean rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen in search of a container of salt. He then laid a circle around Sam's bed.

"Ghosts can't cross the salt line," Dean explained. "Now go to sleep."

"How do you know?" Sam asked curiously.

"Learned it in fourth grade," Dean answered, climbing into his bed. "Now shut up."

"You did not," Sam whined. "They don't teach stuff like that at school."

"You're not in fourth grade," Dean sighed. "I'm tired, Sammy. Just go to sleep please. And you're sweeping the floor in the morning before Dad sees that mess. I'm not getting yelled at because you're a baby."

"I'm not a baby," Sam answered.

"Less talking, more sleeping."

"Did you learn about ghosts from Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed and turned to face Sam. "Why?"

"Cuz one time, I was talking to him about zombies and she showed me this book filled with all sortsa myths about zombies and werewolves and stuff."

"Why did you need to know about zombies?" Dean sighed.

"I saw this movie on TV," Sam said matter-of-factually. "They was eating people so I asked Bobby about them. If they really ate brains and stuff. And he gave me this big book. So I read it and it was super weird. I didn't understand a bunch of it cuz it was for grownups, but it was kinda cool."

"Why didn't you ask me?" Dean questioned.

"Cuz you don't have giant books about zombies hanging around," Sam answered. "Have you seen some of the books Uncle Bobby has? He has, like, every book ever, about everything. It's better than a library."

"You're a nerd," Dean stated with a yawn.

"No I like to read," Sam spat.

"Aren't you tired," Dean yawned. "It's three in the morning."

"I guess," Sam shrugged.

"Then GO. TO. SLEEP." Dean said through his teeth and flipped his covers over his head.

"Dean…" Sam whispered again right as Dean started to reach sleep.

"Sleep," Dean moaned in response. "Just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"Are zombies real?" Sam whispered. "Cuz in that book, it said that they are."

"No Sammy," Dean sighed. "They aren't."

"Then how come Bobby's book said they were?"

"You know what fiction is?" Dean asked.

"It's when a book is made up," Sam answered.

"Well," Dean yawned. "There you go. Wake me up again and I'll kill you."

* * *

The light in their bedroom flicked on at five a.m.

"Up and at 'em boys," John called as the boys moaned and shielded their eyes. "What the fuck happened in here?"

"I _just_ fell asleep," Dean moaned pulling his blankets over his head. "It's Saturday."

"Why is there salt everywhere?" John demanded.

"Because Sam's a baby," Dean whined, voice muffled by the comforter. "Just a few more minutes. Sammy kept me up half the night."

"You're cleaning this mess up," John said. "Now."

Dean moaned sleepily. "Later."

"Get out of bed," John growled, his boot on the side of Dean's bed shaking it. "Let's go, Sam's already dressed."

"But it's the weekend," Dean pulled his covers tighter around his face.

"You have two minutes to get our ass dressed in the living room," John sighed. "Or I'm dragging you out and you can go running in your underwear."

Dean moaned.

"Not kidding," John said, pulling the sheets back. "Two minutes."

Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he laced up his shoes in the living room; Sam bouncing next to him, full of way too much energy for someone who'd gotten such little sleep. If Dean was more awake he'd punch him.

"Let's go," John ordered, and the boys jumped, nothing like a three mile run for no reason at five o'clock on a Saturday morning. Dean had gotten used to not doing this the longer they stayed in Mississippi, for whatever reason his dad had become a little laid back, but now, especially since he needed Sam to learn how to fight, he'd decided to pick right back up again. He hadn't missed a moment of this. His bed was warm and comfortable, especially on weekends.

Dean collapsed, sweaty and exhausted into his bed as soon as he could.

"Clean up your mess, Dean," John boomed through the house.

"It's Sam's mess," Dean answered. "I'm tired."

"I asked you to clean it," John responded. "Just do as you're told, and don't talk back."

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled rolling off his bed. This was stupid. Why couldn't his dad just understand that he was tired?

Dean swept the bed room while Sam sat in front of the television watching cartoons. Crap like this always happened to him. He was the oldest so he got blamed for everything. It was like Sam could do no wrong. He placed the broom and dustpan back where it belongs and flopped onto the couch next to his brother.

"Go take a shower," John instructed.

"Why?" Dean moaned.

"I told you to," John answered, annoyance heavy in his voice.

"Why doesn't Sammy have to do _anything_?" Dean whined.

"I already took a shower," Sam answered not turning from the television. "Right when we go back."

"Dean," John said. "Just do what I say, understand?"

Dean sulked off to the bathroom, rejoining his brother and father at the kitchen table for breakfast afterward. John was passing out toasted frozen waffles and microwaved bacon.

"What's your problem today?" John asked as Dean slumped into his seat.

"I'm tired." Dean grumbled. "I already told you eighty times."

"Go to bed on time," John replied.

"I did," Dean insisted. "Sam woke me up in the middle of the night to talk about zombies and ghosts. It's not my fault. I was sleeping and he woke me up for no reason."

"There's something in the closet!" Sam exclaimed.

"No there isn't," Dean rolled his eyes. Why couldn't Sam just listen? Now their dad was going to make a huge deal about it. Sam didn't even know what he was talking about. He was hearing things in his sleep, Dad would never let live in a house with anything evil in it.

"Is that why there was salt all over the floor?" John asked.

Dean nodded.

"There's something in our closet," Sam insisted, mouth full of waffle. "I can hear it scratching."

"There's nothing in the freakin' closet," Dean groaned. "I told you."

"You can't see ghosts, Dean," Sam sighed. "You can never be sure. There could be a hundred million ghosts in this room right now. You don't know."

"That's not how ghosts work, you idiot," Dean answered.

"How do you know?" Sam spat. "You hang out with a lotta ghosts, jerk."

"It's common sense," Dean said. "You're just making stuff up and pretending it's true."

"I read it in a book, Dean," Sam said rolling his eyes. "I'm not just makin' it up. Ghosts are projections, you can't see them. They're like smoke."

"Both of you knock it off," John sighed. "What's going on with the closet, Sammy?"

"Nothing!" Dean whined. "There's nothing there, Dad. I checked it out."

"Sam," John said, ignoring Dean completely.

"Something was scratching," Sam said softly. "I guess that Dean couldn't hear it, but it was there. I swear. Dean looked cuz I was too scared, and said that there wasn't nothing, but I think there was. Uncle Bobby gave me a book about zombies and werewolves and stuff and there was a part about ghosts and it said that ghost can make noise. So I think it's a ghost. And what if it tries to get me?"

"It's not gonna get you cuz there's nothing there!" Dean growled through gritted teeth. "Tell him!"

"You want me to check it out, kiddo?" John said, eyeing Dean.

"I know what to do, Dad," Dean sighed. "I'm not stupid, I checked it out already."

"Then why the salt?" John half smiled.

"He wouldn't shut up," Dean said clenching his jaw. "And I wanted to go back to sleep. And since Sammy doesn't know nothing about ghosts and _other stuff_ I told him it couldn't get past the salt line to shut him up."

"You just made that up?" Sam said quickly.

"No, Sammy," John answered. "That shoulda been in the book Bobby gave ya."

"Are you done breakfast?" Dean interjected. Sam nodded slowly. "Why dontcha… why dontcha go outside and play for a bit? Dad and I'll check out the closet, alright?"

Sam stood up slowly and placed his plate in the sink, then sighed and turned back to the table. "Only if you tell me what's goin' on."

"Just go play outside for a minute," Dean repeated.

"You're not the boss of me, Dean," Sam said glaring.

"Yes I am," Dean said through clenched teeth. "Go. Outside."

"Dad, you can't just let him boss me around all the time," Sam whined. "It's not fair."

"Go outside, Sammy," John nodded. "Listen to your brother."

Sam stomped his foot and stormed out slamming the door behind him.

"He doesn't know anything," Dean whispered harshly, because he knew Sam was sitting under the open living room window listening. "He's eight, Dad, he doesn't need to know. He's just being a kid. Kids are scared of dark, there's nothing there. I know what to look for. You and Bobby taught me everything. I just wanted him to shut up so I could go to sleep."

"Maybe it's time he learned," John said. "He'd be good with research and stuff. Bet he can pick up victim patterns real quick. He's smart, Dean, I can use him."

"He's eight," Dean said seriously.

"What were you doing when you were eight?" John argued. "You'd been helping me out for a year, been on a hunt."

"I was _bait_," Dean hissed. "I don't want that for him."

"You're not the parent," John spat. "You don't get to make choices for him. I think I'm more than capable of raising my own kids without help from a twelve year old."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this secret?" Dean said. "You know how hard it is when you're a little kid with this giant secret and you can't anyone and kids at school talk about ghost and werewolf stories and you know they're full of crap because you've _seen_ a werewolf but you can't say anything. I don't want that for him. Physical training is one thing, Dad but you can't… you can't tell him. He's too little."

"He's gonna figure it out," John shrugged. "Might as well just tell him. I don't want him to think I've been lying to him his whole life."

"Let him figure it out on his own, Dad," Dean said slumping back in the chair. "It's better than having it thrust at him. I want him just be a kid for a little bit longer. I know you don't get it, but I feel like I have to be a grown up all the time. I mean, you not home, and someone's gotta watch the kid. I don't want him to feel like he's gotta be a grown up too."

John put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

"Just…" Dean continued. "Just humor him. Look in the closet and tell him nothings there. Look up something in a random book and tell Sam that's how you get rid of ghosts so he shuts up. I know he's smart and you wanna use it, I understand, but he's just a little kid. I think he'll understand when he's older. I think he'll get why we didn't tell him. It's safer if he doesn't know."

John nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah I guess you're right. Keeping you boys safe is the most important thing. I'll let him figure it out on his own."

"I mean," Dean sighed. "I don't want to tell you what to do, but you know, he's my little brother."

"No," John nodded. "I get it. Go, um… go play with him before he gets suspicious."

Dean picked up his and his father's breakfast plates before heading outside to play with Sam. Hopefully his dad would listen, he knew it wasn't one of his dad's strong suits, but Dean felt like he had the upper hand with this one. Sam didn't need to grow up yet. Sam needed to be carefree and laugh and play kickball with the neighborhood kids on weekends. He didn't need to stay up wondering when Dad would be back or if it was too soon to call Bobby and say their dad was gone for too long. Sam needed to just be a little kid for a little while longer. That's all Dean wanted in the world.


	22. Chapter 22

The little girl that sat in front of Dean in most of his classes, Trisha Dawson, was constantly staring at him and Dean _did not_ like it. Every single day this girl forgot to bring a pencil to school and _had_ to borrow Dean's. She also had this horrible habit of flipping her long dark hair onto his desk so that Dean had to either use only the bottom quarter of this desk or push it out of the way, he had fantasies about chopping it all off so it didn't keep touching him. He spent a good portion of each day glaring at the back of her head, just hoping that Mr. Brown would reassign the seats so Trisha Dawson could annoy someone else. As Halloween approached, posters started to appear around the school about an upcoming dance, which only added to Dean's annoyance with Trisha, because now she _giggled_ all the time when she looked at him. He would sit with his back to her in the cafeteria but he could still hear Trisha and her friends giggling as he shoveled whatever they had for hot lunch into his mouth. He had never wanted to punch someone so much in his entire life.

His friends had started to notice, especially since Trisha's friend Erin started to do the same thing to Ryan.

"How much trouble do you think we'll get in if you just," Ryan took his spoon and mocked flicking pineapple chucks across the room.

"Probably a lot," Chris shrugged.

"Might shut them up," Eric sighed. "It's just the _giggling_. It never stops."

"My cousin, Rebecca, told me that girls are like that forever," Charlie sighed. "She said that it gets worse in high school."

"Yay," Dean rolled his eyes. "Something to look forward too."

"Trisha said that her mom's chaperoning the dance," Billy said. "I heard her say that she's inviting a bunch of people to the pizza place afterward. You guys gonna go?"

"Maybe," Ryan said, leaning so that he could look between Dean and Eric to the table of giggling girls. The rest of the boys nodded slowly.

"No," Dean laughed. "No way. Not in this lifetime. Not if I was dying and the only thing that would save my life was hanging out with Trisha."

"It won't be that bad," Chris shrugged.

"Maybe if we taped their mouths shut," Dean protested. "You can think it's all great, but wait til one starts giggling at you, Chris. I've never wanted to punch a girl but, seriously."

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement.

"I don't know," Chris shrugged. "Mandi's kinda cute."

"Did you get hit in the head?" Dean asked.

"No," Chris half smiled. "It's… you know… just… she's cute."

"If you start giggling, I can't be friends with you anymore," Eric said seriously.

Dean and Eric exchanged a quick glance than turned back to Chris, who was now staring down at his lunch tray.

"You're not gonna tell her are you?" Chris whispered.

"You think I'd willingly walk over to that?" Dean said seriously. "I'd rather be eaten by a Black Dog."

"Or put through a wood chipper alive," Charlie added.

Chris shrugged and leaned to look between Eric and Dean again. Dean hoped that he _never_ got the look on his face that Chris had now, love struck. It was probably the worst thing ever.

* * *

Dean leaned against chain link fence behind the middle school next to his dad watching Sam's soccer practice after school. John kept trying to make it to the games, but he always ended up staying late at work on the wrong nights. The look on Sam's face when he saw that his dad actually showed up for something, though was worth getting the dates messed up, the smile must have been hurting the kid's face.

"Who's the kid giving Sammy a hard time?" John asked elbowing Dean in the shoulder.

"Number eight," Dean answered. "The spiky haired douche-y looking kid, Derek."

Off to the right Dean heard the giggle that haunted his dreams, he rolled his eyes.

"Hey Dean," Trisha smiled.

"Trisha," Dean nodded, turning back to the practice and started to talk to his dad again. "But fifteen and nineteen are, like, his henchmen. They're always with him."

"Dean," Trisha said softly tapping Dean on the shoulder.

"What?" Dean said, rolling his eyes and turning around.

"Are you going to the Halloween Dance next week?" Trisha asked biting her lip.

"No," Dean stated and turned back around. "My dad says I can't, and he's the boss so, you know, I'm not going."

"You didn't tell me about a dance," John said, looking between Dean and petite brunette behind him. "Could be fun. You should go."

Dean glared at his dad, begging with his eyes for him to shut up.

"I told you about it," Dean lied. "I said 'Dad there's a dance at school.' And you said 'No, Dean, you can't go to the dance.' Remember?" He did the best he could to plead with his dad to play along with his eyes.

"No," John shook his head. "When's this dance, Sweetheart?"

"Next Friday," Trisha said chewing on her bottom lip. "At seven until ten. There's gonna be a costume contest."

"You should go," John nodded.

"Yeah, fine," Dean sighed. "I guess I'm going."

"Cool," Trisha smiled, blushing a deep shade of red. "Umm… so… um after the dance my mom's taking a bunch of us over to the pizza place across the street. A whole bunch of people are going, Chris and Ryan and stuff, not just girls. You should come."

"I'll think about it," Dean nodded plastering a broad fake smile on this face. "See you tomorrow Trisha."

"Yeah," Trisha giggled. "See you tomorrow!" She waved and run off to her friends who were all standing fifty yards away giggling.

"Are you trying to ruin my life?" Dean whispered harshly. "That girl's a freak."

"I think she likes you," John chuckled.

"I think she's a freak," Dean answered. "You couldn't just play along and say I couldn't go? Now I have to talk to her. All she does is giggle and play with her hair and be annoying."

"Where the fun in that?" John smiled ruffling Dean's hair. "You're always talking about how you don't get to do kid things."

"You're embarrassing me," Dean said, stepping sideways. "And I don't want to this _kid thing_ I just want her to go away. She never brings a pencil to school. She always has to borrow mine and her stupid hair is always all over my desk so I can't even use it cuz she's in the way and I move it, and she moves it back and I hate her. All I wanna do is play basketball and go to Charlie's house because he has a Nintendo, not hang out with girls."

John suppressed a laughed and turned back to Sam's practice.

"It's not funny Dad," Dean hissed. "She's annoying and she never stops laughing."

"She likes you," John said, shaking his head.

"Don't be gross," Dean sighed, shifting back and forth on his feet. "I don't think Sam should try to fight that kid. He should just ignore him. You see how big his henchmen are."

"You're probably right," John nodded. "Still want him to learn hand to hand combat though. He's gonna need it."

"I know," Dean answered. "Just tell him that he shouldn't go around beating up people. He just kinda rolls eyes when I tell him not to."

John looked over to Dean, smiling and shaking his head, he tried to ruffle his hair again but Dean pulled away too quickly.

* * *

Dean decided he would pretend to be sick instead of flat out telling Trisha he hated her and didn't want to go to the stupid dance with her, so he laid out on the living room couch fake coughing dressed as Batman.

"I think I'm dying!" Dean whined throwing in some fake coughs. "I have the Spanish Flu. It killed like, all of America one time."

"You don't have the Spanish Flu, Dean," John rolled his eyes. "Stop it."

"I think the school dance sounds fun," Sam said.

"Because you're eight and think everything's fun," Dean spat. "This will not be fun, it will be torture. You're torturing me, Dad. I have… I have African Sleeping Sickness."

"Yeah," John nodded. "I'll show you torture. Let's go."

"You're just making stuff up," Sam said.

"No crap Sherlock." Dean rolled his eyes, as slide off the couch onto the floor then pleaded. "I have the plague. The same plague that killed all of Europe that time. If I go to the dance I'll get the whole school sick and then the whole town will get sick and you'll have to live your whole life knowing that if you didn't make me go the Halloween Dance the whole town wouldn't have died of the Plague."

"Knock it off, Dean," John sighed. "You're not dying. If this was just a little party with your friends would you be throwing a fit about it?"

"No," Dean sighed, bouncing his forehead off the area rug. "But it's not just my friends, it's stupid Trisha and her stupid giggly friends. And Chris _likes_ one of them and I'm gonna have to talk to them, and Trisha's gonna sit next to me at the pizza place and this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life."

"I'm sure," John nodded. "Let's go pick up your friends."

Dean slumped in the front seat of the Impala in Chris's driveway as he waited for his friends to come out. Chris said he was going to be Superman the second Dean said he was going to be Batman, but the rest of the boys decided it was a little too weird if they were all superheroes so Billy was Frankenstein, Eric was a generic basketball player, Ryan was a cowboy and Charlie was Dracula.

"Excited?" John asked as he looked at the four boys packed tightly into the backseat.

"Yeah," Chris nodded. "Mom said that the first school dance is a big deal."

"See," John said to Dean who was now pressed into his side.

"Chris _likes_ one of them," Dean whispered. "He doesn't count."

"I don't know," Billy sighed. "I guess it could be fun. I mean, maybe. There's a costume contest, and free soda, and music."

"See, bright side," John smiled.

"This isn't funny," Dean said. "I don't know why you find this so funny."

"Because one day you'll be fifteen and if you're anything like I remember being, I'll be pulling out of girls' locker room by the ear," John stated.

"Gross," Dean said slumping further down in the seat as they pulled into the school parking lot.

"Thank you Mr. Winchester!" The other boys called as they slid out of the car and made their way toward the gym.

"Chris's mom is picking you up?" John asked.

"Chris's mom, or Charlie's mom," Dean answered. "We don't all fit in one car expect this one."

"Alright," John nodded. "I want you home by midnight."

"I'll be home by 7:30 if I have anything to do with it," Dean mumbled.

"Have fun kiddo," John smiled. Dean rolled his eyes and slammed the door.

He scanned the Cray paper streamer covered gym for his friends, eyes falling on Trisha Dawson dressed as Wednesday Addams against the far wall. He crossed his fingers in hopes that she didn't see him, or couldn't tell who he was because of his mask, but no such luck.

"Hi," Trisha appeared at his side.

"Trisha," Dean sighed.

"I'm really glad you decided to come," Trisha smiled. "Are you gonna come out with us?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "My dad said I should."

"Cool," Trisha beamed. "Well, umm, I guess I'll talk to you later?"

"Okay," Dean nodded, walking away as he spotted his friends by the refreshment table.

The boys mostly stayed against the back wall watching as some of the eighth graders danced together and teachers and other chaperones told them separate. Dean wasn't sure how this was supposed to be fun and from the looks on his friends' faces they didn't either. Until Trisha and the rest of the giggle gang came over.

"Wanna dance with us?" Mandi asked Chris.

"Come on," Erin smiled grabbing Ryan's hand.

"No I'm good," Dean nodded folding his hands behind him.

"Don't be lame," Trisha sighed as her other friends dragged the rest of the boys out to the center of the gym. "It'll be fun."

"I really don't think it will be," Dean stated, yelling to hear himself over the music.

Trisha grabbed his arm and dragged him out with the rest of the group. Dean tried to dig his heals in stop himself, but in the end he decided to just stop fighting it.

It was kind of fun, actually, once he got past the fact that Trisha was girl. He was just laughing and enjoying himself with this friends, it was just a bigger group that it usually was. Even afterward at the pizza joint it was okay.

* * *

Trisha's mom sat with someone else's mom at the little two seat-er table nearby while the twelve of them sat at the big table in the corner munching on appetizers.

"Thanks for coming," Trisha whispered into Dean's ear. He'd somehow managed to end up in the middle of the bench stuck between Chris and Trisha. "I hope you had fun."

"I am," Dean nodded trying to pull away from her, because her face was _way_ too close. "I'm glad you invited me, beats spending the whole night with my brother. He's cool, but he's eight so, you know, he passes out pretty early."

Trisha giggled and Dean did his best not to roll her eyes at her. Now that he'd actually talked to her, Trisha wasn't all that bad. She wasn't dressed like her friends were, like Princesses or fairies. He kinda liked that, originality. He just didn't like the she felt the need to touch him all the time.

"Maybe we could hang out after school, some time," Trisha smiled. "Like when you're brother's playing soccer or something. Maybe we could do our homework together."

"Umm, yeah," Dean answered. "I guess we could do that. We have the same homework."

"Cool," Trisha's eyes lit up and leaned in, kissing Dean on the cheek.

Dean wasn't sure what had just happened, he looked to each of his friends quickly to see if they had saw, but each were enthralled in their own conversations. He let out a slow breath he didn't know he'd been hold and locked eyes with her. She was blushing all the way down her neck.

"Why did you do that?" Dean whispered.

Trisha shrugged. "I don't know, I thought you liked me. That's what you do when you like someone."

"Oh," Dean swallowed.

"You like me right?" Trisha said to the table. "I mean, you said we could hang out and stuff so I thought that meant, you know. I'm such an idiot. Erin told me that you didn't like me and now you think I'm a freak."

"No," Dean shook his head quickly. "I… I… I don't think you're a freak, just a little weird."

Trisha looked up and smiled. "Really?"

Dean nodded.

"So you'll be my boyfriend?" Trisha whispered. "Only if you want to, if you really like me."

Dean shrugged. "I guess," he said. "Sure."

"Cool," Trisha's whole face light up.

* * *

Dean knew that he would regret this decision, but Trisha was going to cry and he couldn't feel responsible for that. Hopefully this wouldn't come back to bite him, Trisha wasn't a total freak once he got to know her, and maybe she was even less of a freak by herself.

Trisha curled her hand around his for the rest of the night while they passed around cheese sticks and loaded cheese fries. Honestly he kind of started to like it by the time Charlie and Chris's moms showed up. She kept her hand wrapped around his all the way out to the parking lot while everyone said goodbye, and kissed him on the cheek again.

Dean felt himself turn red while his friends looked on. Trisha ran off to her mom's car while he got in with Chris and Eric to head home.

"You boys enjoy yourselves?" Chris's mom chuckled.

"Yeah," Chris shrugged. "I guess it was okay."

"It was pretty fun," Eric answered.

"What about you, Dean?" Chris's mom smiled. "Enjoy yourself?"

Dean shrugged. "Kinda."

"Trisha, like, really, _really_ likes you," Eric said.

"I was unaware," Dean rolled his eyes. "She's not that bad when she stop being annoying. She's like a regular person I guess."

"She kissed you," Chris observed.

"Twice," Dean smile. "No one was paying attention the first time."

"Whoa," Eric said turning toward him. Chris tried to turn around from the front seat but his mom smacked him in the back of the head so he turned back around.

"So I guess she's, like, my girlfriend now," Dean shrugged.

"You hated her four hours ago," Eric said.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "But I didn't really _talk_ to her before. And she's not too bad. I mean, like, I could hang out with her sometimes."

"Weird," Chris sighed as they pulled into Dean's driveway. "I guess I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded opening the car door. "Just call me if y'all go over the Charlie's. I could go for some Super Mario."

"I will," Eric promised before Dean closed the door and ran into his house.

His dad was asleep on the couch when came home, so he closed the door quietly and tiptoed into the bedroom he shared with Sammy. He put on his pajamas and climbed into bed, pressing his hand to his cheek trying to figure out how he would tell his dad about the dance without telling him that he was right about the whole thing.


	23. Chapter 23

Dean wasn't exactly he was supposed to do now that he had a girlfriend. He only ever really talked to her after school while Sammy played soccer and sometimes he'd walk her home since she lived on the same street as they did. He didn't really understand what the big deal was about or why Trisha felt the need to tell _everyone_ that Dean was her boyfriend. She was still really annoying when she was around her friends, and there was only so much high pitched giggling one person can handle. He kind of like it though, having Trisha around to help him with homework he otherwise wouldn't do; someone who as always excited to see him that wasn't his little brother, it was pretty cool, not that he would actually say that out loud.

"Do you wanna come to my house for dinner?" Trisha asked on their way home one Wednesday afternoon, twirling her hair around her finger.

"My dad's not home," Dean said quickly, it was true, John was a few hundred miles away on the tail of a poltergeist. "So I gotta make sure Sam's fed and does his homework and stuff."

"I can ask my mom if Sam can come too," Trisha said chewing on her bottom lip. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. I just thought, you know, you might want to hang out not at school. We can watch a movie or something. We got a buncha tapes."

"I'm supposta go right home if my Dad's not there," Dean said. "Just in case something happens and he calls. But I guess one time wouldn't be too bad. I'll ask Sam."

Sam liked to walk up ahead of them running a stick along fences, grumbling that Dean was gross because he let Trisha hold his hand. He stopped and turned on his heals facing Dean after his brother called his name.

"Wanna watch movies at Trisha's?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes before shrugging. "If Dad calls and we get in trouble I'm telling him it's all your fault, cuz you had to hang out with your _girlfriend_."

"Whatever, Sam," Dean said. "If you don't want to watch movies, say so and we won't. I figured you might not wanna eat leftovers and actually _do_ something besides your homework then going to bed, balls in your court. "

Sam shrugged and threw his stick across the street. "Is she going to feed us?"

Trisha nodded. "My mom's making pork chops. Wednesday is pork chop night."

"So you won't have to go home and eat cold spaghetti," Dean smirked.

"I guess I can go," Sam conceded.

Trisha's smile lit up her whole face as she squeezed Dean's hand in delight.

"My mom's gonna be so excited," she squeaked. "She's only met you that one time, but I, like, talk about you all the time and she always tells me to invite you over for dinner but I'm always afraid you'll say you can't, but now you're going to come to my house and it's going to be awesome."

Dean nodded and smiled, but inside he was freaking out. He wasn't the kind of kid that parents of other kids liked very much. He didn't have the cleanest mouth and it was never a secret where ever they lived that Dean liked the get into fights. He hadn't been in one since they'd lived in Mississippi, but he still looked like the kind of kid that was just waiting for someone to say something out of line so he could mess them up. People in town always seemed to have something to say about the Winchesters as they blew into town. Someone would see John running the boys in the early morning light, or hear his deep booming voice as they walked by the house. He was pretty sure Trisha's mom wouldn't like him. She's probably like Sam, everyone liked Sam, but Dean, it took him long enough for find someone his own age to like him enough to be his friend, now he had to impress parents. He'd been lucky enough with the guys; he didn't interact with their parents beyond saying hello. His own Dad barely liked him half the time; it wasn't going to be easy to get Mrs. Dawson to like him, even a little bit.

* * *

Trisha and Dean kneeled front of a bookshelf that held all of Trisha's VHS tapes trying to agree on one, when Dean saw a movie was not going to back down about.

"We should watch this one!" Dean grabbed the case off the shelf and handed it to Trisha. "I love this movie!"

"I don't think I've seen it," Trisha said shrugging. "It's one of my dad's movies."

"You'll love it," Dean nodded. "It's about time travel and stuff."

Trisha stared at him skeptically. "Sounds like a dumb boy movie."

"It's not," Dean said, eyes wide with excitement. "I promise. It's not, it's cool. There's a love story and everything. It's not all kissy and stuff but it's good. You'll like it."

"If this movie is stupid," Trisha said. "Then you have to watch one of my movies and not complain about it."

"You won't be disappointed, Trisha," Dean nodded. "It's the best movie of all time. I saw it in theaters with my dad when I was little."

Trisha smiled and handed it back to him. "Has Sam seen it?"

"No," Dean said, standing up quickly. "He was about two when I went to see it with my dad, so he was too little."

"You don't own it?" Trisha said skeptically.

"No," Dean shook his head and stared at the VCR. He'd never even worked one before but he tried to play it off like he knew what he was doing.

"If you love it so much why don't you own it?" Trisha asked. "Whenever we see a good movie in theaters we always buy it."

"We don't have a VCR," Dean said quietly. "Kinda seems pointless to have a buncha tapes if you don't gotta VCR."

"Why doesn't your dad just buy one?" Trisha asked.

It was really an honest question; Trisha didn't know they moved all the time. As far as she knew he'd only moved once from where they were before to here. Trisha didn't know the shoes Dean was wearing was the first pair of shoes he'd owned since he was five that didn't once belong to someone else, didn't know that Sam rarely had anything that wasn't Dean's first. But it still made him angry. He didn't like explaining his life to anyone. He didn't feel like he should have to.

"We don't need one," Dean said to the wall, not turning to her. "It's never really been a problem."

"Oh," Trisha shrugged walking over the couch and bouncing down onto it. "I thought everyone had one."

"Well, we don't," Dean said trying to hide his anger. He sat down next to her, placing his arm across the back of the couch like he figured he was supposed to do.

"Are you guys gonna be gross?" Sam asked from the recliner on the other side of the room. "Because I don't wanna see that. I don't like kissing."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean sighed, scooting slightly away from Trisha as the previews started.

"What do you do on rainy days if you don't have a VCR?" Trisha asked, snuggling into Dean's side. "That's pretty much all we do when it rains, watch movies."

"Play poker," Dean shrugged. "Or rummy when Dad's not home. Sometimes there's a movie on TV. Sam likes cartoons and reading. I have a couple comic books. Sometimes when we don't have a TV we just play in the rain, unless it's like lightning."

"Oh," Trisha sighed. "You don't think that's weird?"

"Normal for us," Dean shrugged.

Sometimes Dean forgot about what they didn't have. It never really mattered that they didn't have the fancy shoes or name brand clothes, he never really cared. He figured Sam might someday, but Dean was happy the way things were. All he really needed was Sammy and roof and everything was good. He didn't understand the want for stuff, he knew what was important.

Dean hadn't seen Back to the Future since that afternoon he saw it with his dad, but it was every bit what he remember. He kept looking sideways to see Trisha's face and make sure she laughed at the right spots and thought the right spots were girly and cute. She seemed to like it and as the credits rolled he turned to her and smiled.

* * *

"Was it okay?" Dean asked wide eyed. "Did you like it?"

"It was okay," Trisha shrugged. "Kinda weird."

"Best movie ever," Dean nodded and turned to look over at his brother. "Right, Sammy?"

"It's stupid," Sam said rolling his eyes. "That could never happen."

"You're stupid," Dean muttered. "Does… ah… does your mom need any help with dinner? I'm really good with cooking."

"You can ask her," Trisha answered. "We could probably set the table."

Dean followed Trisha into the kitchen where Mrs. Dawson was stirring a large sauce pan.

"Dean wants to help," Trisha said.

"Thank you Sweetie," Mrs. Dawson smiled, she had the same sweet smile that Trisha had. "But I'm all set here, why don't you guys just set up the table. Dinner'll be ready in about ten minutes."

Dean nodded and took silverware from Trisha as she handed it to him, and when they were done the task he slid into the recliner next to Sam.

"When we eat dinner," Dean whispered. "Eat everything in front of you, even if you don't like it. Just eat it and don't complain, alright?"

Sam looked his brother in the eye and nodded.

"And don't say that we don't have real plates at home," he warned. "And say thank you, a whole bunch. Be super polite. Understand?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded sincerely.

"Definitely don't say that I'm the only one that cooks," Dean warned.

"Dinner's on the table boys," Mrs. Dawson called. The boys jumped up and walked over to the table.

"It smells really good," Sam said pulling out a chair across from Dean. "Way better than what Dean cooks."

Dean rolled his eyes and hit his head against the back of the chair.

"Good listening, jerk face," Dean sighed.

They boys accepted what was passed around to them, barbeque pork chops, mashed potatoes, carrots, and corn. Dean kept eyeing his brother, knowing that he wasn't a big fan of carrots and apparently incapable of listening to instructions, but Sam smiled and ate what was in front of him without complaint.

"Trisha told me that your dad's outta town?" Mrs. Dawson asked over the awkwardly quiet dinner table.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He's on a business trip. He'll be back tomorrow."

"He just leaves the two of you alone?" Mrs. Dawson asked concerned. "Trisha said you don't live with your mom."

"She went to heaven when I was baby," Sam said with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. Dean glared.

"Sorry to hear that," Mrs. Dawson frowned.

"He's never gone very long," Dean said quickly. "Almost never overnight. He just takes his job very seriously."

In reality, John had been gone for the better part of the week, and wasn't expected back for another few days. But Dean knew he could never let another adult ever know that. Dad had warned him, he'd get taken away. He'd never see his dad or Sammy ever again if anyone found out.

"What's he do?" Trisha asked. "Cuz my dad goes on business trips a lot too. He's an accountant."

"Our dad's a mechanic," Dean said, shoveling a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. "This is really good, Mrs. Dawson. Thank you."

"Yeah," Sam echoed. "You should teach Dean how to make these carrots, cuz Dean's carrots are always mushy and gross."

Dean glared and kicked at Sam under the table.

"They're just candied carrots Sweetheart," Mrs. Dawson smiled. "I can give you the recipe it's really easy. You do a lot of the cookin' at home, Dean?"

"The last time my dad actually tried to cook us lunch he almost burnt our house down," Dean said through a mouthful of food. "I was five. He's pretty okay with a microwave, though."

"Oh," Mrs. Dawson cocked her head and looked between the two boys at her dining room table. "So you've been cooking for a long time?"

"Oh, no," Dean shook his head. "I learned a lot last summer."

"So what do you boys eat?" Mrs. Dawson pried.

"Lots of pizza," Sam offered.

"And there's a pretty good diner right off the high way," Dean said quietly. "But most of the time I cook something. Unless Dad's not home, he doesn't want me to hurt myself or catch the house on fire when he's not there."

Mrs. Dawson eyed the boys curiously. "How about you boys come over here from now on if your dad's not around for dinner?"

"Thanks, ma'am but it's okay," Dean shook his head. "I don't think our dad would like that very much. We wouldn't want to cause any trouble."

"It wouldn't be any trouble," Mrs. Dawson smiled. "It's nice having extra people over."

"Mom likes cooking for crowds," Trisha nodded. "Can they come for Thanksgiving?"

"If you boys want," Mrs. Dawson agreed. "Bring your dad by, it'll be cool."

"I'll ask him," Dean nodded, looking over at Sam. He could tell from the look on Sam's face that they were thinking the same thing; dad would never agree to that kind of thing. John wasn't big on holidays, let alone barging in on other people's lives.

* * *

After dinner, Trisha and Dean cleaned up the table and worked on their homework. They had a big science test the next morning. Sam sat next to this brother working in his math workbook. Around 7:30, Dean decided it was best if they went home, just in case John called.

From the road, Dean could tell they were going to be in huge trouble the moment they walked in the door. The Impala sat in the driveway like the bad omen in every horror movie Dean had ever seen. He opened the door slowly, positioning Sammy behind him and motioning for Sam to go right into their room.

"Where the fuck have the two of you been?" John's voice boomed through the whole house.

"We… we were at Trisha's eating dinner," Dean stammered as he made his way over to the kitchen table where John stood. "Then… then… then we did our homework."

"What part of 'come straight home after school when I'm not home' is hard for you to understand?" John growled.

"We…" Dean started. "I just wanted to have dinner at my friend's house. We get bored being here all alone. It's not like we were causing trouble or nothing."

"You know what's out there, Dean," John said slamming his hand down on the table. "You know what could happen out there and you'd risk it?"

"We were three houses down the street," Dean explained. "I have my butterfly knife in my book bag, nothing bad was gonna happen to us. We ate dinner with my friend and her mom and watched a movie and did our homework."

"Drop the attitude," John glared.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Dean cried.

"You didn't follow direct orders," John yelled. "Go in your room and pack up all your shit, we're leaving at first light."

"Because we went to have a hot meal?" Dean exclaimed. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair," John answered. "Don't talk back."

"But you promised!" Dean stomped his foot. "You said we'd stay til Christmas. And I got friends and stuff and Ryan's birthday party is next weekend and a big science test tomorrow. You can't just do this."

"Actually," John smirked. "I can. You know why, Dean? I'm the parent, and I make the rules. So how about you go pack up your stuff and your brother and get ready to leave in the morning."

"This friggin' sucks," Dean huffed stalking off.

"Watch your fucking mouth," John bellowed through the house. "You keep this up you're looking for a back hand across the face. I'm not putting up with your lip, boy."

Dean stomped into the room he shared with Sam and slammed the door has hard as he could.

"Pack up your stupid crap," Dean sighed.

"Why?" Sam asked. "We're not leaving til Christmas, Dad said."

"Apparently, he changed his mind," Dean said, pulling two well used duffle bags out of the closet. "Pack up; we're leaving at dawn, I guess."

"Okay," Sam shrugged taking his bag from Dean then pulling his clothes out of the top drawer dresser and throwing them on his bed to fold and pack up. Dean grabbed his stuff out of the other drawer and shoved it all into his bag. He walked around the room shoving what little he had into his bag; his alarm clock, the fire truck he kept on the dresser, the few framed photos he had of his mom. He was pissed. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. All he did was try to give Sam a nice warm meal and a bit of normal and he'd taken away the little bit of normal they'd had for the time they'd been here. He ruined everything. Again. He was starting to think that ruining things was the only thing he was good at, since he could do anything else.


	24. Chapter 24

_AN: So I just noticed that this site doesn't add the page breaks I thought it did. I'm working to fix that now. Sorry about that. :/_

They didn't get to say goodbye to anyone, left before the sun rose the next morning. Dean pressed his face against the window and tried not to cry. It was pointless, the crying. It wouldn't change anything. The few friends he made would probably forget about him soon enough anyway, it would be like he never existed in that small town on the Gulf of Mexico. Sometimes Dean thought that his whole life was going to be like that, he'd be a ghost in the background of some people's stories, but never have a chance to be the main character in anything.

They only stopped to eat and sleep on the way east. Apparently, John half explained while Sam slept wrapped in a blanket in the backseat, his dad had a lead on the thing that killed their mom, and he had to track it down. Dean couldn't help but think that they would have been just fine staying in Mississippi while his dad did what he had to do, but there was no arguing with him once John made up his mind. The boys spend Thanksgiving keeping quiet while their dad slept off the lead that went nowhere squatting in an abandoned house in Iowa and Christmas alone in a no name motel where Dean explained that monsters were real to his terrified and confused little brother.

* * *

The boys hadn't seen their dad since he dropped them off at Bobby's right after the New Year. Bobby had gotten the boys enrolled in school, but Dean had stopped really caring about it. He figured there wasn't really a point if no matter how well he fit in he'd just be ripped out at his father's will. Sam had become a real pain in his ass since he pinched Dad's journal and figured it all out. Kid couldn't sleep through the night without waking up screaming. It didn't matter how many times Dean swore the safest place they could ever be was Bobby's house, Sam couldn't shake that something was coming for them. It made sense really, Dean remembered being afraid when Dad first explained what really happened to their mom, but he knew Dad would do anything to protect them. Sam, it seemed, couldn't trust Dad that much. Dean did his best to comfort him, let Sam slide into his bed when he got too scared, even though they were both way too old for that kind of thing.

Sam had a routine now a nightly check of the room before bed: triple checking the closet, under the beds and dresser. The Thursday before Dean's thirteenth birthday Sam lay flat belly on his on the floor by the bed checking under the bed when he let out a loud high pitched scream.

"There is something under there Dean!" Sam yelled jumping up onto Dean's bed and backing against the wall.

"It's probably a pair of pants, Sam," Dean sighed. "There's no monster, Sammy. It's fine, just go to bed."

"It has eyes, Dean" Sam said seriously. "Pants don't have eyes. Get Bobby. Make him kill it."

"Don't be a baby."

"I'm not a baby!" Sam protested. "There's something under there. I swear!"

Bobby pushed the door open slowly and stuck his head in curiously.

"What's going on?"

"There's a monster," Sam said quickly. "A big monster with teeth and eyes. I saw it. It's not pants. It's real Uncle Bobby. I swear. I said that something was gonna get me and now it's here. I saw it!"

"Want me to check it out?" Bobby asked. Sam nodded.

The boys watched as Bobby crawled under Sam's bed and pulled something out. Sam slid down the wall to sit on the bed as Bobby turned and showed them what had crawled under Sammy's bed: a very angry, old, fluffy, white cat.

"She's kinda like a demon," Bobby chuckled, letting the cat go and watching her take off out of the room. "But she's not gonna eat you in your sleep. Worse she can do is jump on ya. Ya ain't got nothing to worry about."

"See Sam," Dean said. "It's just Jewels. Bobby's is the safest place in the world. I promise."

"Can I…" Sam sighed squirming in his seat, clearly still startled. "Can I…"

"Yeah," Dean nodded flipping his sheets open. "You can sleep here."

"Good night, boys," Bobby smiled shutting off the light and closing the door.

Dean started to drift off, listening to his brother's shallow breathing in the dark.

"How long have you known?" Sam's voice seemed so tiny and scared like he was that little kid afraid to sleep in his own room again. "About the stuff that Dad does?"

"I was, like, five," Dean answered sleepily. "Wasn't too long after we left Kanas. Dad knew I saw something when Mom died. I guess he decided it was best if I knew why he was doing what he was doing."

"You saw what happened to her?" Sam whispered. "Was she really on the ceiling like Dad said?"

"I didn't see that much, kiddo," Dean answered. "I just always thought a monster took her. I mean, I was four, so I guess that's how any little kid would explain something like that, "Monster took her." Dad thought it was best if I knew it really was a monster."

"How come you got to know and I didn't?" Sam asked.

"I didn't wanna scare you," Dean said. "Knew it would freak you out. You're just a kid."

"Oh," Sam sighed pressing his nose into Dean's side. "I'm sorry I stole Dad's book and ruined everything."

"You would have figured it out eventually," Dean shrugged.

"Have you seen things?" Sam asked softly. "The monsters and stuff?"

"Werewolf broke my arm," Dean smiled.

Sam sat up quickly and looked down at his big brother.

"You said you fell shooting." Sam said through gritted teeth. "You lied to me?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "I mean not like I could tell you the truth."

"Does Dad get hurt?" Sam asked hurriedly. "What if he's hurt real bad now and that's why we haven't seen him."

Dean sighed. "Calm down, Sammy, I mean, like, he's gotten scratched and stuff, nothing bad, and he's always fine. He's on a big job in Montana, that's why we haven't seen him."

Sam lay back down and snuggled back into Dean's side.

"Why would he take you with him if he knew you could get hurt?"

"I wouldn't have gotten hurt if I listened to him," Dean explained. "I didn't follow directions, got hurt. It's not Dad's fault."

"Does Uncle Bobby hunt with Dad?" Sam asked.

"Maybe… a couple times, I guess," Dean shook his head. "Not all the time. Bobby's got that phone set up in the kitchen for other hunters. He's like the hunter boss."

"What if something bad happens again?" Sam sighed. "What if you get hurt worse? What if it's really bad and Dad can't just lie to the doctors and they think something really bad happened to you and they take us away?"

"That's never gonna happen."

"I saw it on TV." Sam said. "This guy he hit his kids and the police came and took them away."

"Dad doesn't hit us," Dean answered. "No one's gonna take you away from me. Never. You understand."

"But what if the monster hits you," Sam reasoned. "Or worse. What if a monster eats you? Or kills you like Mom?"

"I'm not gonna get hurt," Dean said seriously. "No one's gonna get hurt. No one's gonna get taken away. Alright, Sammy. Nothing bad is gonna happen. Dad's not gonna let anything happen to you."

"But the bad thing got Mom," Sam said.

"We weren't prepared," Dean said softly. "We didn't know what was out there, now we do. Okay? Now we can get it before it gets us."

"You promise?" Sam asked. Dean could feel his brother crying through his shirt.

"I swear," Dean said letting one of his hands roam through Sam's hair. "Dad's one of the best. Uncle Bobby says so. We're ready if anything comes. Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you. I'll protect you from everything. Even if it's just Bobby's cat."

Sam smiled and tried to snuggle closer, like he was trying to crawl into Dean's skin. Dean hoped that tonight would be the night that Sam would sleep through. All Dean wanted was keep his little brother safe and in the dark just for a little bit longer, but, like Dad liked to say: you only get one wish in life, and Dean used that wish on wanting a little brother in the first place, the rest of it was up to him.

* * *

Dean found himself exhausted the next day, just as he had been every day since Sam found out. Their little talk did nothing to stop whatever was hunting Sam in his sleep. Dean crashed on the couch with is shoes still on after school, dead to the world for hours.

John had finally gotten back from the big hunt in Montana as Bobby finished dinner. Bobby was fine with letting the kid sleep; it was hard to ignore the blood curdling screams that echoed through the silent house in of middle of the night. John, on the other hand, saw laziness in the napping teenager.

"Hey, Dean, Buddy, you gotta get up, dinner's almost ready," John's deep voice wasn't made for whispering but he tried his best. "Big birthday weekend ahead of ya."

"Go away," Dean mumbled, rolling over so his nose pressed into the back of the sofa. "I'm tired."

"Dinner's ready," John said placing a hand on Dean's back.

"Not hungry," Dean whined. "Leave me alone, Uncle Bobby, I'm tired."

"Fine," John said standing up. "I was gonna take you with me on a big hunt up in Fargo this weekend now that you're thirteen, but if you'd rather sleep the days away, fine then. I'll go alone."

Dean turned his head and opened one eye slowly, catching a glimpse of his father standing over him.

"When'd you get here?" Dean asked as he rolled onto his back.

"Bout and hour ago," John tapped Dean on the leg. "Dinner's ready, go grab something to eat."

"I'm really not hungry though," Dean yawned. "Just tired. I can't go if I'm tired."

"Humor me," John said over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen. "Sit at the table and pretend. Bobby slaved away cooking you a birthday meal."

"I wouldn't call it slavin'." Bobby chuckled.

"He like that all the time?" John asked seriously. "Since I been gone, just sleeps all the time?"

Dean sat up and rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes. He stretched and pushed himself up as Sam came flying down the stairs before Bobby had a chance to answer.

"Dad!" Sam screeched sliding in stocking feet across the kitchen. "When you'd get in?"

Bobby placed the casserole dish of lasagna on to the table as everyone found their places.

"I got in about an hour ago," John answered. "What you been up to?"

Sam shrugged. "Homework."

"I haven't seen you in over two weeks and all you've done is homework?" John smiled.

Sam grabbed a piece of garlic bread shoved it into his mouth and nodded. "Pretty much."

"Huh," John met Bobby's eyes across the table. Bobby shrugged. "What did you do to my kids?"

Bobby let out a long slow sigh.

"We run in the mornin' and Bobby took us shootin' on the weekends. Just like you asked," Dean yawned. "We didn't get lazy."

"Good to know," John half smiled reaching over and trying to ruffle Dean's hair.

"It's just been a regular boring couple weeks," Dean said pulling away from his dad. "Don't do that." He ran his fingers through his hair, putting it back in place. "You didn't miss much."

John smiled sadly, knowing that not missing much was missing too much: Sam grew at least two inches and lost another tooth, Dean became a teenager while he wasn't looking.

Dinner was weirdly quiet, even for the Winchesters. Sam had made Dean promise not to tell Dad about the nightmares and since that was the main thing in their lives right now there wasn't much else to talk about.

"Think you'll be up to heading to Fargo with me this weekend?" John asked trying to break the awkwardness.

"If you want me to," Dean shrugged. "What's up there?"

"Looks like a vengeful spirit," John said eyeing Sam. It was still new being about the talk in front on the kid, still didn't feel right. "Should be an easy thing to deal with."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "When are you leavin'?"

"Not til the mornin'," John smiled. "So you'll be able to get some sleep."

Dean chuckled and looked across the table to his brother knowing there was probably another sleepless night ahead of them.

"You really gonna go?" Sam whispered while they sat on the couch after dinner watching TV. Their dad and Bobby were still in the kitchen discussing the finer details of the last case and the one laying ahead.

"I think so," Dean answered. "I want to. It's fun, hunting. It's… I don't think I can explain it. It's cool, knowing that you're saving people."

"What if something bad happens?" Sam worried.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Nothing bad is gonna happen."

"You don't know the future," Sam protested. "You can't know. I don't want you to go. I want you to stay here with me and be safe. Who's gonna keep me safe at night?"

"Nothing. Is. Going. To. Get. You." Dean said teeth clenched tight. "And Bobby's gonna be here. He wouldn't let anything happen to you. Bobby knows what's there; knows how to keep it out. You'll be fine for one night without me holding your hand like a girl."

"I'm…" Sam stuttered. "I'm… I'm just scared. Okay? I'm allowed to be scared."

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean nodded. "You're allowed to be scared, but you gotta trust us. No one's gonna let anything bad happen. Dad knows what he's doing. He knows how to be safe; he's been doing it your whole life. Bobby's been doing it longer. Just freakin' trust us."

Sam shifted on the couch, Dean pulled him in close.

"It's okay to be scared, but you shouldn't be," Dean said softly to the top of Sam's head.

* * *

Dean knew as he drove off at dawn with his dad in the Impala that Sam would be okay. Not today, or any time in the near future, but he'd be okay. Learn to sleep through the night again. It was going to take time, lots of time, but he'd get used to it. Dean wasn't going to pass up a chance to hang out with his dad; to make up for messing up last time he got to go out with him. Dad was going to be proud this time. Dean would prove himself and everything would be good, he'd show Dad he could do the job and Sammy that no one was going to get hurt while they did it. Everything was going to work out this time. It had to. It just had to.


	25. Chapter 25

The hunt was overall pretty easy. John had done pretty much all the legwork except locating the grave of the spirit, but that was easy enough. Dean couldn't see himself taking up a job as a grave digger any time soon, but he liked spending the time with his Dad, even knee deep in a hundred year old grave covered in dirt.

"So, Dad," Dean said, out of breath from all the digging and they weren't even half way done. "What does this ghost _do?_"

"Kills dishonest men," John said shortly. "She's been around for hundred years, started upping the body count recently."

"Why?" Dean said dropping the shade of the shovel into the dirt.

"Influx of dishonest men in Fargo," John shrugged. "I don't know Dean. Just keep digging we got a limited amount of time to do this."

Dean nodded and followed instructions. "What do ghosts look like? Are they invisible like Sam said, or can we see them?"

"They look like people," John explained. "But not really. They're kind of transparent, they look sick. If you saw one you'd know something wasn't right."

"Alright," Dean nodded.

* * *

A half hour of digging later, Dean finally hit something solid.

"Hop out," John said as Dean scraped the wooden box beneath them. "I'll take it from here."

Dean lifted himself out of the grave and kept a look out. John warned him that sometimes being in cemeteries at night brought unwanted attention. He thought this one was far enough off the beaten path to keep anyone from noticing, but Dean had been wrong about a lot of things in his short life. He held the flashlight up so his dad could see what he was doing.

Suddenly, the felt a chill that penetrated his cautionary layers he'd worn against the North Dakota January. He scanned the cold empty graveyard, expecting to find nothing, met with a pale woman in nightgown standing less than thirty yards away.

"Dad!" Dean's voice was shaky and hoarse, scared.

"What?" John popped his head out of the grave looking over to Dean, then following his line of sight across to the woman. "Looks like we got ourselves some company." John was calm and collected, like this was a common occurrence in his life, probably, Dean figured, because it was.

John pulled himself out of the grave and pulled the container of salt out of the duffle bag at Dean's feet pouring it over the bones, as he reached for the lighter fluid, Dean watched as his dad flew across the grave yard and flung hard into a head stone.

"Dean," John coughed trying to pull air back into his lungs. "I need you to burn the bones."

Dean stood rooted in his spot, paralyzed with fear as the woman disappeared and reappeared over his father.

"Dean!" John yelled. "She can't get you. I need you to burn the bones."

He nodded slowly then took action, pouring the lighter fluid over the body as he listened to his dad cry out in pain then laugh sourly. Dean dug into his pockets to fine the lighter John had given him. He turned back to his dad, to make sure that he was doing the right thing. The ghost looked like he was standing inside his father. He frozen again, watching his dad as he screamed in pain.

"Do it Dean!" John coughed. "Light it up!"

Dean flicked the lighter twice and dropped it. The woman screamed. He watched as both the bones below him and the translucent woman burned and turned to ash. He then ran over his father, grabbing his hand and helping him to his feet.

"Good job," John coughed clapping Dean on the back. "Really good job."

"Are you hurt?" Dean asked softly, he could tell his dad wasn't quite himself but he wasn't sure how to fix it.

"Just got the wind knocked out of me Kiddo," John nodded taking several deep breaths. "It'll be fine."

Dean followed behind his dad. He was pretty sure John was lying to him about being hurt, but there was never really any reasoning with his dad. John flopped down in the driver's seat of the Impala.

"Back to Bobby's or you wanna crash at a motel for the night?" John asked turning the key.

"If we stay at a motel," Dean asked. "Can we go to breakfast in the morning? Just me and you?"

"Yeah," John nodded, dropping the car into drive. "We can do that."

* * *

Dean pretended to be asleep, watching his dad as he moved about the motel room. Dean was excited to have such a big bed to himself. Usually he'd have Sam's cold feet pressed up against his thighs and drooling all over his shirt. He watched as his dad peeled off his shirt, there was a large dark stain along the side. He was right about Dad being hurt badly.

"Are you okay?" Dean yawned.

"Go to sleep," John answered.

"Did the ghost do that to you?" Dean continued. "Because you have to lie for your job? Does that make you a dishonest man? You said that's what the ghost goes after."

"Don't worry about it," John sighed climbing into his own bed. "Worry about what you're going to order for your big birthday breakfast."

"Waffles," Dean answered seriously. "With extra bacon and scrambled eggs and maybe some sausage, with chocolate milk."

"Can you eat that much?" John chuckled.

"Bobby said he thinks I gotta hallow leg," Dean nodded.

"Good night," John said, chuckling as he flicked off the light.

"Dad," Dean whispered. "If you were hurt really bad, you'd tell me, right? Like if you needed help? I can help. Bobby taught me how to stitch things on an orange. It was wicked cool."

"I'm fine, Dean," John answered.

Dean rolled over wishing his dad had actually answered his question instead of ignoring him. He had enough of a time dealing with making sure Sam was okay, worrying about Dad wasn't something he really needed in his life. His dad had always seemed invincible, but seeing him today, he didn't look like nothing could bother him.

* * *

Dean woke up with the alarm at 7:30. His dad, however, didn't stir. At first it didn't really bother him. Sometimes he slept through his alarm too when he was really tired, so Dean took a shower. But when he came back into the room and his dad still wasn't up, Dean started to worry.

"Dad," Dean said shaking his dad roughly. "Hey, time for breakfast."

John moaned and rolled onto his back. In doing so the sheets shifted and Dean saw the blood. The cut in his dad's side had pulled open more in the night. Dean's eyes widened in panic, he didn't know what do to do, so he called Bobby.

"I think my Dad's dead," Dean said before Bobby had finished saying hello. "He's moaning and not waking up and bleeding."

"If he's moaning he's not dead," Bobby answered. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Dean said quickly. "The ghost, like, threw him across the cemetery and I asked if he got hurt, and I saw the cut on his side but he said he was fine, and now he won't get up."

"Alright, listen," Bobby said seriously. "I want you to hang up the phone and call for an ambulance. Tell 'em that your dad got hurt, ya don't know how. He just got hurt. I'm getting Sam and heading up. I'll meet ya at the hospital. Understand?"

"What if he gets mad?" Dean said, voice shaking. "Can't you just come and see if he's okay and not call the ambulance?"

"I'm too far away," Bobby said. "Do I say, Boy. I'll see you in a couple hours."

"Okay," Dean said nodding even though he knew Bobby could see him. "I'll do that."

* * *

Before the ambulance got there, Dean hid his dad's wallet in the Impala. He knew that his dad wouldn't like it very much if the cops knew who he real was. He remembered that they didn't use their real names when Dean broke his arm, and he knew that their dad never checked into motel rooms using their real names either. He sat in front of the motel room with his head in his hands waiting for the sirens.

He thought that getting to ride in an ambulance would be cool, but watching is dad hooked up to all the machines while he was pressed up against the wall trying to take up as little room as possible, wasn't even a little bit cool. He didn't really understand what was going on, or what these men were doing to his dad, he just knew he was scared and doing everything in his power not to cry.

The EMTs kept asking him questions, like what their names were and what happened, but Dean just sat there, stock still, saying his Uncle Bobby was coming to fix it.

* * *

Dean hated hospitals, hospital waiting areas anyway. All anyone would tell him about his dad was that there was a lot of blood loss and he should have called sooner. It took forever for Bobby and Sam to show up and even though he'd only been awake for a few hours, Dean felt completely exhausted as he pressed his face into Bobby's side and just let go.

"I sorry," Dean whimpered into Bobby's coat. "The doctor guy said I shoulda called earlier, but I didn't know. What if he dies? It'll be all my fault."

"No it won't," Bobby said placing a hand of the top of Dean's head. "He ain't gonna die, and it's not your fault."

"Everything's my fault," Dean replied.

"Nothing's your fault," Bobby said situating Dean so he could look him in the eye. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I broke my dad," Dean said wiping his face with the back of his hand. "He's gonna be so mad at me."

"You saved his life," Bobby said holding Dean's face still as he tried to look away. "You didn't break him. You did everything right. You did just what I told you to do. He can't be mad at you for that. If he's mad he can be mad at me. You were just following orders, like he taught you to. Right?"

Dean nodded slowly, unsure of himself.

"Are you the Uncle this young man keeps talking about?" A doctor holding a folder in the doorway asked.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded.

"Good," the doctor sighed. "Maybe you could tell us his father's name since he won't. We have some paperwork that needs filling out."

"He is okay?" Bobby asked as he walked over.

"He's unconscious, lost a lot of blood, but we've stopped the bleed, patched him up. He should be awake in an hour or so. You can see him then."

Bobby turned back to the boys and smiled before following the doctor through the doors to fill out paperwork.

"I told you bad things could happen," Sam snapped.

"Shut up," Dean huffed, flopping down into a chair.

"I told you and you didn't listen and look," Sam said gesturing around the room. "See where we are?"

"Shut up," Dean repeated. "If I wasn't there he would be dead for real, okay. Is that what you want? You want Dad to die out there alone? Just shut up, you don't know anything."

"If coulda been you," Sam said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You could be bleeding to death somewhere someday. Then who's gonna take care of me? And tell me stories? And make my lunch? And tuck me in? And make sure there aren't bad things under my bed?"

"World doesn't revolve around you jerkface," Dean rolled his eyes.

But Sam had a point. It could have been him. He could have been eaten by the swamp creature when he was seven or the werewolf a few years back, the ghost could have picked him to throw halfway across the graveyard. But they didn't and Dean couldn't just say that everything was always going to be fine anymore; not when something like this happened on the simplest of hunts.

"Sorry," Sam sighed, sitting down next to his brother in the empty waiting room. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean it like, I don't want you to get hurt too. I don't like hunting, Dean."

"Well," Dean said seriously. "You're eight, and you don't get a say. So Dad's gonna do whatever he wants and you're going to have to live with it until you're eighteen and move away. That's how life works."

"That's stupid," Sam said letting his head fall onto Dean's shoulder. "This is all stupid."

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean half laughed. "It is, but there's nothing either of us can do about it.

* * *

When John woke up, his boys were at his side, waiting.

"What happened," John moaned, pulling at the breathing tube against his nose.

"Dean called me in a panic," Bobby said from the chair across the room. "Told me you'd bled to death in your sleep because you won't let him look at a cut on your side."

"I was fine," John answered.

"Clearly," Bobby nodded. "Scared the kid half to death."

John looked over to his boys, Dean looked squarely at the ground.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "I had to call the ambulance because I thought you were dead."

"It's alright," John nodded. "When can I get outta here?"

"The doc wants to look you over again," Bobby answered. "Keep ya overnight, make sure you don't rip anything open again."

"Not saying overnight," John replied.

"Least let 'em give you a once over," Bobby demanded. "Give the kid you scared shitless a little bit of piece of mind."

"I'm sorry," Dean said quickly. "That I called the ambulance, Bobby told me to. I knew you didn't want to go to the hospital but Bobby said."

"It's fine," John said, placing his hand of the side of Dean's face. "It was the right thing. Bobby's right. You ain't got nothing to be sorry for."

Dean and Bobby shared a glance across the room. Bobby smiled and nodded in silent "told ya so."

* * *

They were back on the road by after dinner. The group stopped to eat at diner where Dean wanted to have breakfast that morning before heading back home to Bobby's. His dad told him on the ride that they'd be leaving the next morning, important business in Utah, but they'd be there for a while, maybe even until the end of the school year. Dean wanted to tell his dad to slow down, take some time off and heal. That's what Dean thought you were supposed to do when you got sick, but he knew reasoning with his dad was pointless. But John did promise to tell Dean if he was hurt next time, promised to never let anything like had happened the night before happen again. Dean thanked God for little miracles.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: I don't want it to sneak up and trigger anyone, there is slight talk of not suicide exactly, but not wanting to exist. It's hard to explain without spoiling the chapter, but there could be some triggering portions of this chapter. **

* * *

John didn't change much of anything, but Dean honestly never thought he would. Dean got to go out on more hunts, backup when John needed a second set of hands. It wasn't too often, usually salt and burns on weekends when he didn't have school. They both figured Sam was old enough to not forget to feed himself and starve to death if they left him alone for a weekend.

After some pleading, John finally let Sam help with research. Dean taught him how to match victim profiles and find patterns in history. Sam really seemed to take to it. He liked feeling like he was helping. Dean didn't really like having Sam help, he wanted to keep him away from it, but his little brother was good at it, and it made his dad smile, so Dean zipped him lips and let it happen.

They ended up in Idaho the first week of October Dean's freshmen year of high school. He skated along the outside of high school life, didn't want to bring too much attention to himself just in case his dad wanted to uproot them again. He did, however, find himself staring at the older girl that sat behind in him in Geometry, Janie, when she got up to sharpen her pencil. He did his best to pretend he wasn't staring at her, but he was sure that she caught him a couple times, smiled back even. She had study hall with him sixth period too. She seemed to read a lot, Vonnegut, Orwell, Lord of the Rings, books Dean could never see himself reading.

He was watching her walk around the library over the top of the book he was pretending to read for English and eventual flop into the chair opposite him.

"Do you remember what our assignment was in Geometry?" She asked, twirling a long strand of blonde hair around her index finger.

"What?" Dean coughed.

"You sit in front of me in math, right?" Janie chuckled. Dean nodded. "Do you know what our assignment was?"

"Odds on page ninety five," Dean said quickly.

"Thanks," Janie smiled leaning forward on her forearms across the table. "Whatcha reading?"

Dean looked at the cover of the book, because honestly, he had no idea. "Umm, The Outsiders, for English."

"You're a freshman?" Janie pouted. "Huh."

"Have you started it yet?" Janie asked. "The homework for Geometry?"

"We just got it two periods ago," Dean answered.

"Wanna do it together?" Janie suggested. "Get it over with. I suck at math, but I've spied your grades over your shoulder. You seem to know what you're doing."

"Sure, I guess." Dean shrugged. "If you want to."

Janie flashed a quick smile and switched seats so she was right next to him. She smelled like strawberries. Dean tried to keep his eyes to himself as she leaned down to the floor to retrieve her book from her back pack.

It became a regular thing, Dean doing his homework with the pretty blonde girl in the library. She invited him to eat lunch with her and her best friend Steve, who also had Geometry with them, and suddenly Dean was part of a group again. It was easy, like it had been in Mississippi. Steve and Janie were both hilarious, and didn't seem to care that Dean was freshman even though they were both juniors. Janie had a car and drove Dean back to the trailer park they were staying at for the time being most days, since Sam got out of school after he did and usually took the bus home. He liked being part of a group. He knew it would never last, but it still felt nice, belonging.

* * *

The Friday before Halloween, Heather Anderson, the head cheerleader and by all accounts most popular girl in this high school, threw a huge party. Dean flat out lied to his dad about where he was going, saying he was going to Steve's for the night, guy thing, and jumped in the back of Janie's Jeep Wrangler and rode to the Anderson's huge house on the outskirts of town.

Dean had never been in a house that big in his life, he figured Bobby's entire house would fit in the living room. There were pieces of future that probably cost more than everything he owned. Heather had set up a keg on the back porch; red solo cups had already started to litter the house as the crowd grew. It seemed like the whole school was there.

"Wanna beer?" Steve asked guiding Dean by the elbow outside.

"No," Dean shook his head. "I'm good." He thought about all the nights that his dad had dove head first into a bottle, the times he'd had to put a blanket over his dad while he was passed out on the couch. The mornings trying to keep Sammy quiet while their dad slept off a long a night of drinking. There were a lot of things that Dean wanted to emulate in his father, being that sloppy, angry drunk wasn't one of them.

"It'll be fun," Steve urged grabbing himself a cup and filling one for Dean. "We're walking to my place, it's less than two blocks away, no one's gonna get hurt."

"My dad'll kill me," Dean shrugged.

"Grab teenage rebellion by the horns,'' Steve laughed pressing the sweating cup into Dean's hand. "That's what high school is about, sticking it right to your parents. He wouldn't find out, anyway. You told him you were crashing at my place right? We'll chill til the hang over subsides. It'll be all good." Steve smirked and took a long slow drink.

Dean looked around; Janie was laughing with a small group of girls, red cups in all of their hands, and so he gave in, sipping slowly.

"There ya go," Steve laughed as he walked back into the house, Dean followed close behind.

* * *

A few hours later, Dean and Steve had started to do shots; lined a bunch of whatever along the side of the sink and tipping back.

"What up boys?" Janie slurred wrapping her arms around Dean's neck. "Enjoying yourselves?"

Dean nodded. Her hair was so soft against his face he couldn't concentrate on anything else.

"I'm gonna get some air," Janie whispered into his ear then disappeared toward the back door.

Dean shifted awkwardly against the counter.

"Follow her," Steven instructed.

Dean shook his head quickly. "No."

"Dude," Steve chuckled. "You dig her right?"

"I guess," Dean shrugged.

"Dude it's like her tits have magnets attached to your eyes," Steve said serious placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You're into her. So go outside, and kiss her. _Love_ her."

"I don't love her," Dean said stepping out of Steve's reach.

"Dean," Steve said looking his in the eyes the best way he could with the alcohol in his system. "I haven't known you very long. But you love her. You _love_ her. Go talk to her. She likes you."

"Really?" Dean said skeptically. "How do you know?"

Steve pointed to himself. "Best friend. She tells me _everything_. Go." Steve turned Dean around and pushed him toward the door.

The alcohol was making him walk sideways but he made it out to the back porch where Janie was standing alone, waiting.

"I was afraid you weren't gonna follow me," she said wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I wasn't going to," Dean confessed.

Janie turned him so he was pressed up against the house and stepped in close. "I'm really glad you did."

Her hands started to move into his hair, he let his start to roam along her lower back.

"What the fuck are you doing Jane?" Someone Dean didn't know called from across the porch. "You going after retards now? That kid can barely spell his own name."

"Shut up, Andy, you don't know a damn thing," Janie spat.

"Seriously, Janie," Andy laughed. "He's a freshman. You're really down grading."

"Just go away, Andy," Janie rolled her eyes. "You don't know anything."

"I know that kid's a complete idiot," Andy smirked. "Ever listen to him read out loud in class? Idiot."

Dean pushed himself away from her and forced his way back inside. "Wait, Dean," Janie called after him.

"That was way too fast," Steve chuckled as Dean grabbed the bottle of whatever Steve had in his hands and started to pour more.

Fuck all of this, Dean thought. He was getting drunk enough to forget everything. He didn't even know that guy. Didn't know how he knew that Dean was stupid, didn't really care who he was, he just didn't want to feel anymore, because not feeling would be better than Janie thinking he was a moron.

* * *

The next thing Dean remembered he was sitting outside leaning against the trellis under Heather's porch while Steve tapped his face and said his name.

"Dean, we called your Dad," Steve said slowly. "He's on his way to come get you."

"No," Dean whined. "No, no, no. Don't call my dad! He'll kill me. He's gonna kill me."

"He's on his way," Steve repeated. "He's gonna pick you up."

"Noooooo," Dean slurred. "No. We're going to your house so my Dad doesn't know 'bout the drinks."

"Buddy," Steve said as seriously as he could. "It's the best if you sleep this one off at home. You blew chucks off the deck. You need to go home."

"I'll sleep here," Dean said trying to lay down on the grass.

"No, Dean," Steve said, grabbing the side of Dean's face and forcing Dean to look at him. "We gotta get you up and out front. You're dad's gonna be here any minute."

"He's gonna murder me," Dean panicked as Steve pulled Dean to his feet. "Kill me dead. You'll never see me again. Deadest dead. So dead."

"I'll make him promise not you kill you, alright?" Steve said wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and walking him to the driveway.

"He's gonna kill me," Dean repeated. "Shoot me in the face."

John pulled the Impala up to the driveway, left the car running as he helped Dean into the back of the car.

"You wanna ride?" John asked. "Or the girl who called?"

"I only live a block away," Steve answered.

"You're not driving anywhere," John said sternly.

"No sir," Steve answered. "I'll take a ride if you're offering. Just let me grab Janie."

John nodded and took the front seat again, Dean moaned loudly in the back.

"You puke in my car," John said seriously. "I don't give a shit how hung over you are in the morning, you'll be cleaning this whole car with your toothbrush."

"Don't kill me in front of my friends," Dean slurred as the doors opened and Janie and Steve hopped in. Janie pulled Dean's feet into his lap. "Please, don't kill me in front of my friends."

"Shhh," Janie soothed rubbing Dean's calf as Steve instructed John on how to get back to his house. "Just go to sleep, Dean. No one's gonna kill you."

"I'm so dead," Dean continued to slur.

* * *

Janie and Steve both got out at Steve's house; John continued to drive Dean home while he begged for his life. If there was one thing Dean had ever been sure of in his whole life it was that his father was going to murder him and hide the body where no one would find him. His dad could do that, his dad had told him how to hide a body where no one would ever find it.

John walked Dean into the house and let him flop onto the couch, then pulled off his boots.

"You wanna blanket?" John sighed.

"To wrap my body in?" Dean slurred.

"In case you're cold," John said grumpily. "Sam would miss you too much if I killed you. He whines enough now."

"He's just a kid," Dean replied. "He'll get over it."

John dropped a blanket over Dean and placed a large pot on the ground next to his head before sitting in the recliner next to the sofa.

"I want you to go to sleep," John said softly. "If you think you're gonna puke there's a bucket on the floor. We'll talk in the morning."

"I'm sorry," Dean slurred, pulling the blanket up to his neck. "I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up."

"You're not a fuck up, you're fifteen," John sighed.

Dean was quiet for a while, long enough for John to think he'd fallen asleep and for John himself to start to nod off.

"Dad," Dean whispered very softly. "Have you… have you ever touched a boob?"

"What?" John chuckled.

"Like on a girl," Dean clarified rolling onto his side so he could look at his dad with an extremely serious look on his face. "Have you?"

"Yes, Dean," John said shortly. "Have you?"

Dean shook his head. "No," Dean sighed turning back over. "Do you think my friend Janie is hot?"

"I think she's fifteen," John answered.

"She is seventeen," Dean corrected, like it made all the difference in the world. "And hot. The hottest girl in school probably. Most people think that Heather Anderson is but I think she's kinda slutty. Steve told me that one time a couple years ago Heather blew a good part of the football team and that's why she's the head cheerleader this year. Janie isn't slutty. She's beautiful."

"Okay," John nodded.

"You think that Mom would like her?" Dean asked, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't know nothing about her, Kiddo," John replied. "So I don't know."

Dean rolled again to try to see John in the chair. "If I told you stuff about her would you tell me if you think Mom would like her?

John nodded. "Yeah, go ahead."

"She's in my math class," Dean slurred. "She sits behind me."

"I thought she was older than you?" John interrupted. "Why is she in a freshmen math class?"

"No," Dean stated. "I tested outta algebra, so I'm in upper level math, Geometry. I'm good at math. I've gotta A-."

"I didn't know that," John smiled. "Good job."

"Thanks," Dean said. "Anyways, Janie, we do our math homework together in study hall. And sometime when we finish doing that, she helps me with my English homework. She doesn't call me dumb or nothing for needing help. She just does it. And she gave me a book to read, cuz it's her favorite book. So I'm reading it. And she doesn't care that I read kinda slow, she just wants me to read it cuz she likes it and she wants me to like it too."

"What book?"

"Slaughter House Five," Dean answered. "It's good. You should read it."

"Alright," John nodded.

"She plays the flute," Dean continued. "In the school band. She's the second chair. And she smells like strawberries."

"Sounds like a nice girl," John said.

"Would Mom like her?" Dean pressed.

"I think she would," John nodded.

"Good," Dean nodded. "I wanna touch her boobs. I almost kissed her, but then this guy told her I was stupid and I didn't. I just drank a whole bunch. That was probably a bad idea."

"Yeah," John agreed. "It probably was."

"I'm sorry," Dean moaned flipping onto his back again.

"You got nothing to be sorry for," John soothed. "Just go to sleep."

"I'm a giant fuck up," Dean slurred. "And I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," John replied. "It was your first party, things like this happen."

"I ruined _everything_," Dean insisted. "Everything. I didn't stop it, I couldn't save her."

"Save who?" John asked with a yawn.

"Mom," Dean said softly. "I didn't save her. I shoulda saved her."

"You were four, Dean," John said. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I shoulda known better," Dean slurred. "It shoulda been me that got burned up. Then you and Sammy and Mom could be happy and Sam could have a dog and you wouldn't have to deal with me being a fuck up all the time."

"Dean," John said seriously. "Don't you dare say anything like that to me ever again."

"It's true though," Dean said starting to choke up. "I can't do nothing right. I can't even go to a dumb party without fucking up. It would be better if I was gone."

"Dean," John kneeled on the floor next to Dean's head and forced him to look at him in the eye. "You didn't do anything wrong. You understand? You're not a fuck up."

"I am though," Dean said, full on crying now. "I couldn't save her."

"You were four, Dean," John said seriously. "And I couldn't save her either, okay. It's not your fault."

"I ruin _everything_," Dean sighed. "I shoulda done better. It shoulda been me."

"No," John said seriously. "Don't you talk like that. Don't you_ think_ like that, Dean. You did everything you were supposed to do. Now listen to me really good, we're gonna talk about this in the morning. I want you to go to sleep, just close your eyes. I'll wake you up in the morning. You go to sleep and you stop thinking like that."

"Imma," Dean slurred. "I'm a bad kid. Mom would be disappointed in me. You're disappointed in me."

"No," John promised looking Dean straight in the eye. "Your mom would be proud of you. Real proud. The way you watch out for Sam. You're a real good kid. You just messed up. You're allowed to go to parties and mess up, that's what high school is. Am I happy that you got piss your pants drunk and your friends called me to drag your drunken ass home? No, but we'll deal with that tomorrow. I'm not disappointed."

"You're not apposta lie," Dean whimpered, breathing heavy as tears poured out of his eyes. "You keep tellin' me it's wrong to lie. I know I'm a disappointment. You don't want a loser idiot son. I wouldn't want me either. I'd trade me for Mom every day."

John wiped the tears away from Dean's eyes. "Listen to me, Dean. You're not an idiot loser. You're just a kid. I'm not disappointed in you and I would _never_ trade you. Understand? I miss your mom but I'd never trade you. Ever. We'll talk about this in the morning. Go to sleep now."

"Okay," Dean said, taking big deep breaths to try to calm down. He eventually cried himself to sleep with his Dad kneeling next to him, wiping the tears from his face before falling into the recliner to catch a few hours before Sam woke up and demanded breakfast.

* * *

**AN 2: I just wanted to thank everyone reading this story. Thank everyone for your encouragement and kind words about my story. I never thought that one person would read it, let alone all the wonderful readers who have so far. Thank you very much, you have no idea how much it means to have such positive messages. **


	27. Chapter 27

"Dean, Buddy," John said shaking Dean's leg. "Wake up, it's almost noon. Ya gotta at least get off the couch."

Dean moaned and opened his eyes; his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He pushed himself up a little, but felt a wave of nausea unlike anything he'd ever felt before and puked in the pot next to the couch.

"I'm dying," he whined.

"No you're not," John said handing Dean a glass. "Drink this then go to your room. Can't spend the day on the sofa."

"What is this?" Dean asked eyeing the cup.

"Water," John sighed. "Drink up. I got shit to do, can't have you in the middle of the living room. Let's go."

"What's wrong with Dean?" Sam asked from the kitchen.

"Lots of things," Dean answered trying to get himself up but feeling motion sickness like he'd never felt in his life. "You sure I can't just stay right here and just wait for death?"

"You'll be fine," John sighed. "Come on, I'll help ya up, take ya into the other room."

John pulled Dean up off the couch and pointed him in the direction of the bedroom.

"When the room stops moving we're talking," John reminded him.

Dean gave him a halfhearted thumbs up as he crossed the threshold into his and Sam's room. He pulled his smelly shirt over his head, let his pants fall to the floor and collapsed into bed face first.

* * *

There was a knock on his door an hour or so later, 1:15 according to the alarm clock next to his bed.

"No," Dean whined. "Go away."

John stepped into the room and closed the door. "I sent your brother out to play street hockey with some kids down the road." Dean's heart started pounding in time with his head. This was where his dad was going to kill him, when he was sure Dean would recall every moment of it. John sat on Sam's bed. "How much of last night do you remember?"

"Most of it I think," Dean answered. "There's some fuzzy bits, but I think I know what happened."

"You remember our conversation?" John said seriously.

Dean nodded and started to pick at the blanket. "Yeah."

"You wanna talk about it?" John asked.

"Not really," Dean shrugged.

"You think like that a lot?" John pressed. "'Bout not wanting to be around?"

Dean shrugged.

"Dean," John stated. "Look at me." Dean rolled onto his side to face his father. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

"Nothing," Dean shook his head. "Absolutely nothing is going on in there. I didn't mean it, what I said last night. I was just being stupid. All that drinking didn't have control of myself."

"Doesn't fly," John replied. "It's truth serum, alcohol. Makes you say what you really feel. You really think you would have said any of what you said about your little girlfriend if you weren't trashed?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Dean mumbled.

"Dean," John pressed. "Answer the question."

"Probably not," Dean sighed.

"Right," John replied. "You can't just hold all that darkness in."

"Been doing just fine so far," Dean mumbled.

"Yeah," John sighed. "And last night you laid on my couch and told me you wanted to kill yourself. You're it's clearly working out for you."

"That's not what I said at all," Dean shouted back, pushing himself up so he was sitting.

"You said it would be better if you weren't around," John stated, trying to keep his voice even. He knew yelling at the boy wouldn't help the situation.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged. "It would be better for Sammy. He deserves it. He should have someone worth looking up to as a role model, someone smart who can help him with his homework. Who can, like, talk to him about the book he's readin' cuz he's so into it. I can't do that."

"You're not stupid, Dean," John said seriously.

"Tell that to the kids at school," Dean shifted awkwardly on the bed, pulling his legs up to his chest. "Or my teachers."

"I think that if we were in one place all the time," John said. "It would be easier for you, but we can't do that. You know that."

Dean rolled his eyes. How hard would it be for his dad to just drop them off at Bobby's and let them be? He'd probably see them the same amount anyway. John was good at just ditching both boys in some crappy motel for a week, what difference would it make if they were in South Dakota instead of the next town over. That was the one thing Dean wanted more than anything, stability, at least for Sam. He didn't really care about himself, he just knew Sam deserved better.

"You tell me everything would be better if it was different," Dean mumbled. "You tell me that if we lived in one spot I could do better. But nothing ever changes. So how I am I not supposed to think that if Mom was here and I was gone Sam would have the best life? How am I supposed to think that I'm anything if even you think that I'm not good enough?"

"You're plenty good enough," John replied.

"Sam would be better, _happier_, if I wasn't around," Dean shrugged. "He'd be so much happier."

"You know what losing you would do to your brother?" John asked. "That kid thinks the sun shines out your ass. You think about that next time you think you're not worth your weight."

"He'll find someone worth lookin' up to," Dean shrugged. "And if Mom was around, he'd probably have real friends and stuff."

"Listen to me," John said as he got up off Sam's bed and sat down next to Dean's feet. "It wouldn't matter if your mom was here or not. You're his big brother, you matter more to that kid than anyone else. You always will be."

"Yeah, but if Mom was here," Dean started.

"Look," John said sternly cutting him off. "This week is hard for all of us. It sucks, you miss your mom, I understand. But you don't get to check out early because you're sad. Everyone here misses your mom. I get it."

"No," Dean shook his head. "You don't get it. How long did you know her? Like your whole life? You lived in the same town forever? I _barely_ remember her, and my whole life is has been about avenging her. All I hear about is how great she was and how what we're doing out there, hunting things and saving people is for her. And then I go out with you and I _always_ fuck it up and you yell at me and I'm letting everyone down and it would be so much easier for everyone if I wasn't there. You'd have Mom and you'd live in Kanas and everything would be awesome and Sam would be happy instead of mopey and annoying all the time."

"Wanna know what I have to say about that?" John replied. Dean shrugged. "I'd be exactly where I am right now if it had been you that I lost that night."

"No," Dean shook his head. "You'd be happy. You could have other kids, better kids."

"When you were two or three, before Sam," John said staring off toward the window across the room. "Your mom was out having a ladies day at the mall or something with her friends, just taking a break or whatever. She warned me that I had to watch you constantly but I figured you'd be fine. You decided it would be fun to slide down the stairs on your pillow. I guess cuz I took you sledding not too long before and to you it looked the same. I was relaxing in the living room and you called out 'Daddy watch me' so I turned around from watchin' TV, and you came flying down those stairs and went head first into a bookshelf. Cut the side of your face wide open. There was blood _everywhere._ I didn't think someone that small could hold so much blood. I scooped you up, wrapped my shirt around your head. You were screaming, just screaming. I somehow got you into the car and while we were driving to the hospital you feel asleep or passed out from blood loss or something, either way you stopped makin' noise and I thought I lost you."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean demanded.

"Because I thought you were dead," John said. "And until you've got a kid of your own, you don't know what that feels like. It's the worse feeling I've ever felt. Worse than anything, Dean."

"Worse than Mom?" Dean said softly.

"Dean," John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You and your brother are the most important, best things that have ever happened to me. I'm sorry you don't got your mom around, and I'm sorry that you struggle with your school work, but you thinkin' you're not worth nothing, that you don't matter, than you're not important, it's just not true. I can't bring your mom back. Nothin' you think or want is gonna do that. But if it had been you who died that night, I'd be right here, looking for the thing that took away my boy."

Dean shifted again, trying to make himself smaller.

"You're worth something," John said, placing his hand on Dean's knee. "I get that you don't think so, but you're just a kid. If you don't feel like sticking around for you, stick around for your brother. If you walk away and leave me with that kid to try to explain why you didn't, couldn't, stick it out and be around for him, I'll never forgive you. Being a teenager sucks, but someday it ends."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"You got anyone you can talk to?" John asked. "Just talk, I know talking to your old man about your feelings isn't something you wanna do. You got someone who'll listen to you? Your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Dean corrected. "And I don't think she'd be interested in listening to my problems."

"Your Uncle Bobby?" John pressed. "A teacher, a friend at school, Pastor Jim, anyone?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I can find someone to talk to."

"Good," John nodded. He started to push himself up but stopped and looked over at Dean. "One more thing."

Dean looked up through his lashes.

"This girl, Jane?" John questioned. "Your _not_ girlfriend."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Janie."

"You like her?"

"Please don't do this again," Dean pleaded. "I remember it all from the first time, I don't need a refresher. And I really feel like crap."

"Well whose fault is that?" John shook his head. "This girl's older than you?"

Dean nodded.

"Listen," John continued. "I don't want you doin' nothin' you ain't ready to do. Don't rush it. You can do whatever you want, but don't rush it. Don't think you gotta do things because everyone else is doing it, like your little stunt last night. And if you decide that you wanna take a step with this girl…"

"I know Dad," Dean laid down and pressed his feet against his dad trying to kick him off the bed. "I remember: wear a condom, don't make her do nothing' she doesn't wanna do. If I push myself on her you'll kill me. I remember. Now leave me alone."

John stood up and looked down at Dean who'd wrapped his comforter over his head. "You want something to eat?"

"No," Dean whined.

"You'll feel better," John said. "Some toast? You get something in your system you'll get some strength back, be able to do something with the day. You got a buncha chores to get done."

Dean moaned and flipped the covers back over her head. "Fine."

"Just so we're all clear here," John said seriously. "You're grounded for a good two weeks, taking the bus home from school, working around this house, chores, extra running, training. Don't do anything like that again. Cuz next time you might not have friends with the state of mind to call your dad and get you home and you could get yourself killed, die of alcohol poisoning, wake up covered in your own puke not knowing where you are. High school's full of parties like that, you're gonna go, that's part of life, but be more careful. I'll pop you in some toast."

"Okay," Dean nodded.

He sighed and started to push himself back up. Part of him knew that his dad knew what he was talking about, but a bigger part knew his dad could never understand. Dean had so much to live up to. He had to fill his dad's shoes; become a hunter, a good hunter. He had to be a parent to his brother because his dad was barely around, had to make sure Sam turned out better than he did. He wasn't doing a very job at either. The two friends he'd managed to make probably didn't want anything to do with him after last night, probably realized he was just an idiot freshman. His dad could never understand. No one could.

He pulled himself out of bed and found a part of discarded sweatpants and made his way slowly to the kitchen where a plate of dry toast was waiting for him.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean spent the next day cleaning the trailer, went on a long run around the trailer park and cleaned the Impala inside and out as his dad instructed. After a shower he collapsed onto his bed. These two weeks were going to suck. He pulled his book bag over to him and pulled out the book Janie gave him. He'd read half of it in last week, he wanted to finish it before Janie started to ask him about it.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe a short time later.

"You have a guest," John said.

Dean looked over his book to see the doorway where he saw his dad standing next to Janie.

"Dad," Dean hissed sitting up and grabbing blankets and pulling them over himself. "You can't just let girls in here I'm in my underwear."

John chuckled. "Yeah, keep the door open."

"Sure, Mr. Winchester," Janie answered. "Absolutely."

"He's grounded," John said. "So you're not staying too long, alright?"

"Okay, sir," Janie smiled. "No problem. Just the state he was in the other night, had to make sure he was alive, you know."

"Ten minutes," John said, turning around and walking back into the living room.

Dean licked his palm and tried to flatten his hair, as Janie sat down on the corner of the bed.

"So… you're breathing," Janie laughed.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Barely. I really thought death was coming yesterday."

"Teach ya to drink a bottle of Jack by yourself," Janie shook her head.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "Not the best decision I've ever made."

"Look, about the party," Janie said chewing on her bottom lip. "What happened with Andy, he's just a jerk you shouldn't pay attention to him."

Dean shifted on the bed, staring down at the blankets, picking lint off and tossing it on the floor. "It's true though," Dean replied. "What he said. Did I throw up _on_ Steve?"

"No," Janie sighed. "You almost did, but Steve turned your head and you projectile-ed off the side of the deck. Don't change the subject, you're not stupid, and I really care about you."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Sure."

"Seriously," Janie smiled. "I don't know where you got that idea that you're stupid. I've seen you in class; you're, like, a math whiz."

"Math isn't everything else," Dean mumbled.

"Who gives a shit if you read slow?" Janie laughed. "I'm pretty sure you're the only one."

"That guy seemed too," Dean mumbled.

"That guy," Janie said, maneuvering so she could make eye contact. "Is a dick that's been pissed at me since my freshman year when I won't hook up with him because I had a boyfriend."

"You have a boyfriend?" Dean mumbled.

"I used to," Janie clarified. "He went off to Boise State and couldn't care less about the life he left behind."

"Sorry."

"I can find better," Janie replied, leaning forward.

Suddenly they were kissing. She tasted like strawberry lip gloss, and _clearly _knew what she was doing. Her hair was softer than it looked as he ran his fingers through it. He felt like time stopped until his dad cleared his throat in the doorway.

They pulled apart and Janie stood up and adjusted her shirt. "So maybe when you're not grounded we can catch a movie or something?"

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Janie smiled twirling her hair around her finger. "Really. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Dean nodded and watched her walk out the door. He let himself fall backward onto his pillow and sighed. He could hear Janie thanking his dad for letting her speak to him and say something to Sam before the front door closed. His heart was pounding. He wasn't really sure what just happened, but he was pretty sure Janie just asked him to go together.

Dean pulled on a pair of pants and made his way out to the living room where his dad and brother were watching football.

"Go back to reading your book," John said without turning around. "Or doing your homework."

"When am I going to be ungrounded?" Dean asked.

"Well I said two weeks," John answered turning from the TV. "And it's been half a day... So, two weeks."

"What do you do?" Sam asked.

"Something stupid," Dean answered. "Janie wants to go to the movies."

"You're always doing stupid things," Sam interrupted. "You don't always get grounded for two weeks. Is it because you threw up in the living room yesterday?"

"Mind your business short stack," Dean rolled his eyes. "I just wanna know what I can plan to take Janie out. I guess we're going together now or something."

"Two weeks," John repeated. "Girl knows you're on house arrest. If I didn't know you were sweet on her I wouldn't have let her in. If I expected to see your tongue in her mouth I definitely wouldn't have let her in."

"Gross," Sam moaned. "I sleep in there."

"I made sure she spread cooties all over your bed before she left, Sammy," Dean stuck his tongue out.

"_Dad!_" Sam whined.

"You're _grounded_ Dean," John reminded him. "Room, homework, now."

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded turning on his heal.

"You can take your girlfriend to the movies in two weeks," John called after him.

* * *

"What did you do?" Sam asked as he changed into his pajamas that night. "For real?"

"I went to a party," Dean answered closing Slaughter House Five and placing it on the nightstand between the beds.

"A boy girl party?" Sam pressed as he climbed into his bed.

"Yeah," Dean said turning off the light.

"And that's why Dad's mad at you?"

"I got drunk," Dean said rolling his eyes. "And Dad had to come get me. It's no big deal, just something stupid."

"You can't drink, Dean," Sam said seriously. "It's illegal. You can go to jail for that. I saw it on the news. Underage drinking is a big deal. You can go to kid jail 'til your twenty-one."

"I'm not going to jail, Sammy," Dean rolled over to face the wall. "I'm just grounded for two weeks. Stop freakin' out about very little thing."

"No," Sam whined. "You don't get it, do you? You keep doing all these bad things, like stealing at gas stations and coning people to give you money and now you're drinking. You're gonna end up in jail. You're gonna get taken away from me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," Dean promised.

"You keep being an idiot you are," Sam protested. "Dad said it's your job to make sure I grow up good, right?"

"Yeah," Dean answered.

"Well, if you keep doing stupid things," Sam reasoned. "I'm gonna do stupid things, because I always do what you do."

"No," Dean said sitting up and turning toward his brother. "No you won't Sam, because you know not to do it. You learn from my mistakes, and don't copy them. You're smarter than that."

"But you make it look _so cool_, Dean," Sam deadpanned.

"Don't be a bitch, Sam," Dean sighed. "I don't need a lecture from an eleven year old."

"You don't have to be such a friggin' jerk," Sam answered, rolling over to face the wall on his side of the room.

"Bitch," Dean said laying back down.

"Jerk," Sam whispered, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean couldn't help but wonder if their dad put Sam up to their little talk or if Sam had come up with it all by himself because he was nosey. Kid had worried about everything and had this pre-occupation with Dean ending up in "kid jail" as long as Dean could remember.

As he lay there listening to his brother's breathing even out as he fell asleep he wondered if Sam would be that stressed about everything if they had Mom around, probably not. Maybe his dad was right though; he should talk to someone. Uncle Bobby would be easiest he figured. He'd have to try to sit with him next time they were over in South Dakota. Sam deserved a better life, but maybe if he could just give Sam a better Dean, it would be good enough. He decided that was what he was going to do. He was going to be better for Sam, just try his best to smarter and happier and do things that wouldn't make Sam worry so much.

That's what he was going to do these two weeks that he could do anything else. He was going work on learning to be better for Sam.


	29. Chapter 29

_AN: This is the awkward teenage sex chapter. It had to happen and I don't really write things like that all that well. It's not graphic or anything, just super weird. That's why it's taken so long to get it posted. I've never been a fifteen year old boy, so this was incredibly difficult. I hope y'all are okay with it. _

* * *

Dean became pretty attached to Janie the more time they spent together. He knew that it was probably not the best idea seeing as how his dad liked to just pack up and leave town, but every time Dean brought her over to the house for dinner or to do homework or just hang out, John couldn't help but smile at them. Sam continuously complained about Dean having a girl over all the time, he _did not_ like having a girl in his room. Dean wasn't really sure what Sam thought was going on, since the door was always open and their dad kept sticking him head in a making sure they weren't touching. Dean figured Sam should start noticing girls soon and Sam did seem to be pretty good friends with a little girl in his class named Stephanie, even talked about going to her house for Thanksgiving.

* * *

"This is seriously the music you listen to?" Janie laughed going through the shoe box of cassettes tapes on his bed.

"What's wrong with my music?" Dean said defensively, grabbing the tape back from her.

"You listen to the same music as my mom," Janie smirked.

"Have you heard some of the crap on top forty stations?" Dean scoffed. "Have to listen to that shit when Sam gets a hold of the radio. Friggin' sucks. Worst two hours of my life every time. I'd rather shoot myself in the face."

Janie rolled her eyes.

"What?" Dean shrugged. "It's true. It's horrible, Janie."

"You don't like Ace of Base?" Janie said very seriously. "That tape's always playing in the jeep."

"I honestly don't even know what that is," Dean shook his head.

"Seriously?" Janie chuckled.

"I'm not usually listening," Dean smiled leaning in to catch her in a quick kiss. "I'm either in the back and can't hear it, or I'm paying more attention to you."

"Whatever," Janie laughed leaning in.

Dean was trying his best to be patient, but they'd only made it about halfway to second base in the three weeks they'd been a serious item. He was desperately hoping for even a little bit of over the shirt action soon, but they very rarely got to spend any time completely alone.

His hand was snaking up from her waist, so close, when his dad popped his head in and announced dinner.

"Pizza here guys." It felt like John was laughing at him.

Dean glared through Janie's hair at him. "Really?" he mumbled against her lips.

"Maybe we can catch a movie after we eat?" Janie suggested. "Pulp Fiction's still playing at the mega-plex, or that new Frankenstein."

"Or the new Star Trek movie," Dean nodded.

"Or not that," Janie said placing her index finger on his nose.

"Dad'll probably make us take Sam," Dean sighed.

"Dinner," John called again.

"Heard you the first time," Dean yelled back.

"I'll ask him if I can take you out," Janie smiled standing up and flatting her skirt out. "Tell him I'll have you home before you turn into a pumpkin."

* * *

They didn't exactly make it to the mega-plex like Janie told John, but to a necking point out by the river on the edge of town.

"I… I thought we were going to the movies," Dean coughed.

"Thank God you're cute," Janie smiled running her fingers through his hair. "Weren't you the one saying, not even two hours ago, that we could have some private time?"

"Oh," Dean nodded. "Right."

He was nervous, almost shaky nervous. This was his moment, more than anything he didn't want to mess this up, make Janie laugh at him. Nothing would be more humiliating than that. He let her lead as they started to make out and he finally, _finally_ got his hand over her breast.

"Whoa," Janie said pushing back. "Hold on. Have you… have you ever done this before?"

Dean shook his head quickly, panicked that he'd managed to screw this all up less than five minutes in. "I had a girlfriend when I was twelve, but I didn't even get to kiss her."

"Okay," Janie smiled pulling him closer by the shirt. "Don't… just don't squeeze them like that. They aren't car horns. Just be nice."

They kept going, until she was topless and he was on top of her on the bench seat in the back of the Wrangler. She got a hand on him and Dean couldn't figure out why they weren't doing this all the time. It was so much more intense than doing it himself.

"I want," Dean said breathing heavily, pulling her face to his.

"Not yet," Janie smiled into the kiss. "I'm not ready for that, not in the back seat of my car."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just hand me my bra," Janie answered. "Gotta get you home before your dad sends out a search party."

"I'll do _anything_," Dean pleaded, because this couldn't be the end.

"Next time," Janie promised leaning over him to find her clothes.

"There's a next time?" Dean said more to himself than to her.

"Of course," Janie kissed him hard on the cheek. "There will definitely be a next time."

* * *

When he got back to the house, his Dad was waiting up for him on the couch. He did his best to hide the wide smile on his face as he tried to sneak by him into the bedroom.

"How was the movie?" John asked, taking a long sip from the brown bottle he had planted against his knee.

"Awesome," Dean nodded, taking a step closer to his bedroom and avoidance of a potentially awkward conversation.

"What was it about?"

"I have no idea," Dean said honestly. "I'm tired, got school in the morning and stuff. I'm gonna go to sleep, if that's cool."

"Bobby called me," John said, turning to look at Dean over his shoulder. "There's something pretty big up toward the Canadian border, I'm gonna go take care of it. I'm leaving in the morning."

"Okay," Dean shrugged. "How long you think you'll be?"

"Week," John answered. "Maybe two."

"So you won't be around for Thanksgiving?"

"Don't think so," John shook his head. "Sammy wants to go to his little friend's house. You got your girlfriend. Not a big deal, really."

"Alright," Dean nodded.

"Listen," John said seriously. "I said the same thing to your brother earlier; I don't want you bringing your girl around here while I'm not around. She can come and do homework, but I want her outta here by sun down. Sam will tell me if she's not, and you'll be in deep shit. I get that you're fifteen and you think the sun shines out her tits, but I don't need that around your brother. Be responsible."

"Yes sir," Dean answered, straightening up a little bit. "I can do that."

"If you go over to her place," John continued. "Make sure you're here to feed your brother. There's money in the envelope on the fridge for food. You're in charge. Be the good kid I know you can be."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded. "I will."

"And if what happened tonight while you weren't at the movies is what I think happened judging from the smirk on your face," John said. "I hope you're careful."

"Please don't," Dean mumbled shifting awkwardly.

"We don't need accidents," John replied.

"I understand," Dean answered. "I do, I get it. I'll be careful."

"Just take care of Sammy."

"Always do, Sir," Dean answered, before disappearing into his room.

* * *

Everything went smoothly through Thanksgiving. Dean helped Sam tie his tie and walked him down the street to his friend Stephanie's house. The girl's dad said he'd drive Sam home later. Dean tossed his feet over the arm of the couch and ate cold lo mien and watched the Lions beat the Bills. It was pretty boring by himself he decided in the middle of the first quarter of the second game. He wished they had a microwave or that there was anything else on television. Janie said she'd call when she got back from her aunt's house a couple hours away in Oregon.

He went to his room and found the book Janie had told him to read after he finished Slaughter House Five; The Hobbit. He had a hard time keeping the dwarves straight in his head, but Janie swore it was awesome so kept pushing through it. He'd never tell anyone, but he was kind of getting into the whole reading for fun thing. He got why Sam did it, anyway. There wasn't the pressure of having to explain what he'd just read to anyone so, really the story was his to interpret the way he wanted. School would probably be a whole lot easier if it was taught that way.

When Sam got home Dean was asleep on the sofa with the book on his chest.

"Hey," Sam yelled tapping the bottom of Dean's foot.

Dean opened one eye slowly. "What?" he moaned.

"My friend, Levi, who lives next to Stephanie, asked me if I can go to his house for a sleep over tomorrow," Sam said quickly. "Can I go?"

"Would Dad let you go?" Dean asked wiping sleep from his eyes and sitting up.

"No," Sam answered discouraged. "But he never lets me do anything fun, and Levi said that all my friends are gonna be there and I'm gonna be a loser if I don't go."

"You're a loser if you go," Dean smirked.

"Don't be a jerk," Sam said rolling his eyes. "Can I please go?"

"Who's gonna be there?" Dean asked.

"Levi, obviously since it's his house," Sam answered. "Russ, Phil, Derek and Isaac, everyone."

"Just a bunch of guys?"

Sam nodded.

"Does Dad know this kid or his parents?"

"No, but you can meet them when we go over tomorrow," Sam pleaded. "They're not demons or nothing, I checked; just a normal suburban family."

"Dad really wouldn't let you go?"

"Does Dad let us do anything?" Sam sighed. "No."

"I wanna meet this kid's family before I'll let you stay," Dean answered. "And you don't get to tell Dad that I let you stay overnight anywhere."

"You're the best!" Sam smiled as he hugged Dean tightly, the flopped into the recliner next to the couch. "What are you watchin'?"

"No idea," Dean said tossing Sam the remote. "I was watching the Dallas game, but I fell asleep."

Dean watched as Sam loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes, getting comfortable as he flipped through the channels trying to find anything worth watching. He didn't get to see Sam smile all that much anymore, not since he'd stolen their dad's journal a couple Christmases ago. He looked so grown up all of sudden. Maybe it was the tie and the dress shirt, but he didn't look like his little Sammy anymore.

* * *

Levi's parents were pretty normal, the regular boring parents that everyone except the Winchester boys seemed to have. His dad was a tax account and his mom stayed at him with Levi and his two little sisters. Dean made sure that Sam had a silver butterfly knife and plenty of salt just in case when he dropped him off.

The light blue Wrangler met him at the end of Levi's street.

"You're dad seriously just left you alone?" Janie asked as Dean pulled himself up into the passenger's seat.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Meeting up with my uncle for a work thing, up near the Canadian border."

"On Thanksgiving?" Janie said skeptically.

"Well, he left Monday," Dean explained. "So kinda, yeah. Doesn't really matter, we got the trailer to ourselves."

"What does your dad do?" Janie asked as she dropped the car into drive and started back off toward Dean's place.

"Umm," Dean shifted awkwardly. "He's a mechanic."

"And there's a major car emergency that takes a week to fix?" Janie pressed when the turned into the trailer park.

"I can't really talk about it," Dean mumbled.

"Whatever," Janie shook her head as they pulled into his driveway.

* * *

They ended up watching a movie on TV pressed together on his couch, Dean pressing his nose into her ear occasionally.

"What are you even trying to do?" Janie said turning toward him after the fourth or fifth time she felt his nose in her ear.

"I don't know," Dean answered.

"Clearly," Janie smiled. "Don't do that it's weird." She turned into him and placed her head on his shoulder.

He let his fingers run through her hair, and when she didn't tell him that was too weird, allowed himself to get bolder.

When the credits rolled on the screen she turned up to him. "Your dad's really not coming back tonight?"

"Not til Tuesday at the earliest," Dean nodded.

She stood up and pulled him up with her, their lips meeting briefly before she pulled him into his room.

It escalated quickly from making out to naked making out. And when she asked if he had a condom, he slipped off the side of the bed while reaching for the bedside table. She didn't laugh which he was thankful for but he wasn't really sure what came next. She took control and it was over before either of them really had a chance to enjoy it. The second time was better, he knew what to expect knew where to put his hands.

They lay together with her head on his chest, pieces of her hair falling into his mouth. He could stay like this forever, just him and his girl. He was pretty sure he was in love with her; this had to be what love felt like, he'd have to ask his dad when he got home. He listened as her breath evened out to sleep before searching for it himself. He made plans to make her a big breakfast in the morning before they went to pick up Sammy. He wondered if his dad would be able to tell what he did when he got home. Janie was beautiful; he figured he'd tell her over breakfast. He played with her hair, so soft and smelling like sweet strawberries until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

_AN 2: I went back and re-watched _Dark Side of the Moon_ to find out the name of the girl that Sam spends his first Thanksgiving with, and discovered I messed up the canon time line a little bit. Sorry. I hope it's okay. _


	30. Chapter 30

John didn't come back until the first weekend of December, limping and grumpy like he always was when he came back from a long hunt. Dean and Sam walked eggshells and did the best they could to stay out of the way until their dad felt like talking about it. They spent a lot of time during the week after their father's return in the library downtown, pretty much from the end of school until it closed at eight. Dean spent the weekend at Janie's, watching horror movies while laying across her bed. Dean liked that her parents trusted her, let her close the door while he was in there. Janie told him he was getting better when they fooled around, was quite so awkward and confused now.

As she pulled her jeep into the trailer park to drop him off Saturday, Dean reached over and turned down the horrible pop music pouring from the radio.

"What?" Janie laughed. "I mean I know you don't like the music but you can deal for another half mile."

"I love you," Dean blurted, that wasn't what he was planning on saying, it just happened. He looked down at floorboards, feeling his face turn a deep shade of red.

"Yeah, okay," he could hear her eyes rolling. "You're already in my pants Deano you don't gotta say shit like that."

"It's true though," Dean mumbled. "I do."

She pulled the jeep into his driveway behind the Impala. She placed a hand on the side of his face softly.

"You're sweet," she smiled before kissing him on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow, after church. Alright?"

"My dad making Sam and I do a thing tomorrow," Dean replied, popping open the door. "So I'll just see you Monday, I guess."

"Alright," Janie nodded. "Have fun."

Dean huffed a laugh; he doubted Janie would think that running tactical drills and working on bow skills wasn't something that Janie would consider fun.

* * *

A fog horn sounded in the room at 4:45 am. Dean was waiting for it, had been half awake since three, just waiting. For the first time, it was Sammy that complained the whole time. Dean kept nudging him in the shoulder was they ran, trying to tell him to shut up, that Dad didn't care that he was cold or tired.

"Levi's parents rented out the indoor soccer field for his birthday," Sam whined as John handed him a bow and pushed him toward the targets he'd set up in a big vacant lot on the outskirts of town. "This is stupid. I just wanna hang out with my friends."

"Hung out with your friends all week, kiddo," John sighed. "It's family time today. You can deal with one day a week being with your family."

"But it's Levi's birthday," Sam stomped his feet.

"Sammy," Dean grabbed his brother and turning him away from their dad. "Just do as he says, the sooner we get this over with you'll be able to go to your party alright?"

"No I won't," Sam scoffed. "You know that. This is stupid! When am I ever gonna have to know how to shoot a bow?"

"Bow hunting is a very important skill, Sam," John said seriously. "Just do as I say."

Sam had been becoming a real pain lately, complained about pretty everything their dad wanted them to do. Dean remember that eleven wasn't exactly the easiest age, but Sam was beyond regular cranky. Dean had always wanted to do what his dad did. He had that memory of their mom they night she died. He'd do anything to try to get her back. He half figured that maybe since Sam didn't know that he had a harder time just sucking it up and doing things that sucked because their dad said so. But he wanted so badly for his brother to just listen, just shut up and listen, because nothing was worse than when their father started to yell.

"Suck it up," John warned. "The longer you stall, the longer we'll be out here. You'll see your friends tomorrow. Dean's not complaining. He spends every waking moment with his girlfriend and he can take a break. He's not being a whiney brat."

"Dad," Dean said. "Give the kid a break."

John threw his hands up and stalked off toward the other end of the field where the targets were. "You get five minutes then I better see some arrows flying."

"This is stupid," Sam huffed the moment John was out of ear shot.

"Stop being a baby," Dean warned. "Just do what Dad wants and it will be over and he'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, but I still won't be able to hang out with my friends," Sam rolled his eyes. "He's gonna keep us under house arrest all day."

"Well," Dean reasoned. "He was pissed about the mess in the house when he got home. We both should have been better about cleaning up. Now we gotta do what he says. That's how it works. That's how it's been your whole life. It's not changing, get used to it."

"But I don't need to know any of this stupid stuff," Sam growled. "I'm not gonna use it. I'm not going on hunts."

"You'll need it someday," Dean said turning and walking toward the targets, hoping his brother would give up and follow.

"What if I don't want to," Sam sighed. "I don't want to do this."

"Well," Dean shrugged, pulling an arrow out and aiming. "Too bad. This is our life. Deal with it."

"This life is stupid," Sam mumbled.

"Suck it up," Dean said, doing his best to sound like John. "It's the only one we got."

Dean lined up and let an arrow fly before his dad started yelling. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam let out a deep full body sigh and copied him.

* * *

On Tuesday at school, Dean sat across from Janie and Steve in the lunch room, making fun of their math teacher, and laughing, when Janie squealed and jumped up, nearly knocking her chair she over backward.

"What's going on?" Dean asked as Janie ran toward someone standing in the doorway.

"Must be the start of winter break for Boise State," Steve answered. "That's last year's seniors."

"Oh," Dean nodded. "You guys were all friends?"

"Yeah," Steve replied. "That guy, Taylor, and Janie went to prom together last year. There were together for a while."

"That's the old boyfriend she was talking about a while back?" Dean said. "The one that dumped her when he went to school?"

"If you had been here at the beginning of the year, man," Steve shook his head. "She was a mess. You were like a God send getting her outta that funk."

Dean smiled to himself, but he didn't really like how this Taylor guy was looking at his girl, or touching her. He could feel himself getting angry, the anger that Bobby and his dad had done everything they could to teach him to control. He didn't need to punch this guy, he didn't need to get suspended from another school especially a little over a week before winter break. His dad would kill him. Janie pulled Taylor over to the table. Steve smiled halfheartedly, Dean shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Taylor smiled taking a seat. "Heard you're the new kid in the group."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Something like that."

Taylor smiled over at Steve; "Taking care of my Janie?"

"She's not yours," Steve rolled his eyes. "But yeah, I mopped up the mess you left."

"Don't be like that," Janie said under her breath.

This Taylor kid didn't seem like the kind of guy Janie would be hanging around with, in Dean's opinion anyway. He didn't seem anything like Dean. He was very clean cut, and apparently, from the direction of the conversation, a catcher on the baseball team, or at least was in high school. He was that kind of kid that everyone knew in high school. Janie and Steve didn't seem like those kinds of kids to Dean. Not that they were outcasts exactly, just the kind of students that blended in, Taylor definitely stood out.

Dean decided he didn't like Taylor at all, and from the looks Steve kept flashing over at him, he wasn't a fan either.

"So, wanna split for the rest of the day, Babe?" Taylor asked, sliding a hand around the back of Janie's chair.

Janie squirmed and turned a light shade of red; Dean stared at Taylor, nostrils flaring in rage as he balled his fists at his sides.

"I drive Steve and Dean home after school," Janie answered. "Can't cut out."

"I can have you back to drive the kiddies home," Taylor flashed what Dean figured was his prize winning smile a year ago. Girls probably fell all over themselves to get someone to smile at them like that.

"Don't," Steve whispered, grabbing Dean's forearm. "Not worth it."

"Nah," Janie smiled over at Taylor. "Gotta paper due in my seventh period, don't wanna lose a letter grade."

"What happened to you?" Taylor laughed. "You're always up for cutting out after lunch?"

"Maybe I grew up a little," Janie shrugged, smirking over at Dean.

"Whatever," Taylor shrugged. "Wanna hear about the college life kiddos?"

Janie nodded enthusiastically, Steve rolled his eyes, and Taylor started spewing stories about beer and girls that if any other guy flapping his mouth, Dean would be hanging on every word.

* * *

Sam was spending the afternoon at Levi's. John could only handle so much whining before he just gave in. Their dad was going to pick Sam up on the way home from working at a little garage downtown where he'd been catching a few shifts when he wasn't off hunting, enough to make rent on the trailer and keep food in the fridge.

"Come on," Dean pleaded. "My dad won't be home until after seven. I don't gotta make dinner, he promised to pick something up on the way home tonight. We'll have the house to ourselves for a few hours. We can watch a movie, hang out, do whatever."

"I don't know," Janie sighed. "Not today."

"You gotta go hang out with Taylor?" Dean rolled his eyes. "He really seemed to miss ya while he was at school."

"It's not like that anymore," Janie spat. "He's my friend."

"Okay," Dean shrugged popping open the door. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Wait," Janie said. "I don't want you to be mad. I can hang out for a while I guess."

"You don't have to," Dean answered, closing the door before walking toward the front door.

But Janie was right behind him when he opened the door. She made herself at home like she usually did, flicking on the TV and looking through the meager tape collection.

"If you don't want to be here," Dean said, pulling two cans of soda out of the fridge. "You don't have to be. I'm not going to hold it against you if you have other things to do, other friends."

"No," Janie half smiled, taking the can that was offered to her. "I wanna be here, with you. But you really need some more movies. I mean, you can only watch the same six horror movies over and over before it get a little bit boring."

"You don't like horror movies?" Dean chuckled sitting down next to her on the sofa.

"Not really," Janie answered.

* * *

Dean was on his back on the sofa, Janie wasn't wearing a shirt, making out. Neither heard the front door close or the keys hit the dish in the kitchen, or John clearing his throat several times.

"Where's your brother?" John asked loudly.

"Levi's," Dean answered, taking a breath long enough to answer. "Fucking shit, Dad you're not supposed to be home for, like, two hours."

Dean almost dumped Janie off him was he scrambled to find her shirt on the floor and cover her up.

"Why didn't you bring Sam home?" John asked.

"You were supposed to pick him out on the way by," Dean answered while Janie buttoned her shirt back up.

"It's Tuesday ain't it," John groaned.

"Yeah," Dean answered.

"I'm gonna head home," Janie mumbled awkwardly. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow," Dean nodded. "I love you."

Janie nodded and tip-toed around John and out there door.

"You know I don't like it when she's here and I'm not," John said when the door closed behind her. "I don't appreciate you sneaking around behind my back like that."

"We weren't," Dean defended. "We were watching a movie."

"That wasn't any kind of movie I'd want you watching," John sighed. "I'm gonna go get your brother. I'll pick up pizzas on the way back?"

"Yeah, cool," Dean nodded.

* * *

Something seemed off in Geometry the next morning, but Dean figured getting caught by his dad half naked on a couch would have the kind of effect on a person. Janie couldn't look at him while they chatted before the bell. It wasn't until study hall that he found out what was wrong.

"Look," Janie said seriously sitting down across from him. "Taylor called me yesterday when I got home."

"Alright," Dean said slowly looking up from his book. "And?"

"He wants to get back together," Janie replied softly.

"And you said no because you already have a boyfriend?" Dean retorted.

Janie shook her head, looking down at the table. "No, look Dean, I really like you and everything, but me and Taylor… we're like… I don't know meant to be."

Dean just stared at her blankly.

"I'm sorry," Janie said chewing on her lip.

"That's it?" Dean felt completely empty, broken.

"Yeah, I guess," Janie answered. "I mean what else is there?"

"I love you," Dean whispered.

"No you don't," Janie sighed. "Stop freaking saying that. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, actually I do," Dean replied.

"Dean," Janie rolled her eyes.

"Just don't okay," Dean sighed, standing up and packing up his bag. "Just, I don't know, just leave me alone I guess."

"Dean," Janie pleaded reaching out for him as he turned to walk out of the library.

He just walked out, left school without a care, walked home. Sam would take the bus, he didn't need to worry about him. He pulled up the fridge; his dad had most of a twelve pack in there. He didn't even hesitate before grabbing one and popping the top. He didn't care about being yelled at, he'd just had his heart ripped out in a school library, nothing could be worse than that.

* * *

"Are you freakin' drunk?" Sam sighed when got home a few hours later. Dean shrugged in response. "That's dad's beer. Did you not learn your lesson the first time? Did you skip school to get drunk on the couch? Dad's gonna murder you."

"Don't care," Dean slurred, the fourth one tasted better than the previous three.

"Whatever," Sam sighed deeply. "Don't go into the room. I don't wanna deal with you."

"Fine," Dean shook his head, slowly falling sideways so his head was resting on the arm the couch. Sam stormed into their room and slammed the door loudly. "Don't care anyway."

* * *

Dean didn't even react when John got home a few hours later, just laid on the couch staring at the dark television.

"What's going on here?" John boomed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"I think I made a mistake," Dean mumbled.

"You fucking think?" John said standing over him, surveying the scene: the empty beer cans lined along the coffee table, the teenager drunkenly draped over the arm of the sofa.

"You think that mistake might be drinking all the beer?" John yelled. "Where's Sammy?"

Dean pointed in the general direction of the bedroom door.

"Not all the beer," Dean slurred. "Just half."

"You're a fucking moron," John sighed as he sat down in the recliner.

"I made a mistake," Dean repeated.

"What _else_ did you do?" John demanded.

"I loved her," Dean answered, dramatically throwing his arms open. "I love her, and she… she just _broke _me."

"You're girlfriend?" John asked.

"_Ex_-girlfriend, apparently," Dean replied. "She just dumped me, and doesn't even care that I love her. Another guy gives her a little bit of attention and she just breaks up with me like I'm nothing."

"I'm sorry about your girlfriend," John sighed. "But what you did, that's stupid."

"I didn't know what else to do," Dean said, trying his best not to cry. "It hurts."

John let out a sigh, staring at his son, this mess that he couldn't help feeling like he was more than a little bit responsible for his current state.

"We, like, _did it_ and stuff," Dean blurted.

"I figured," John mumbled.

"You don't just _do_ stuff like that unless you love someone," Dean continued. "I just don't understand."

"Sounds like you cared more about her than she cared about you," John reasoned. "It happens, kiddo, happens more often than you think. You're just a kid, you got a life time of heartbreak ahead of you."

"But she, like, put her mouth-"

"I don't need the details Dean," John said cutting him off.

"Why would you do that to someone if you don't love them?" Dean asked. "I don't get it. You're supposed to love someone before you have sex with them. That's what you said."

"I remember," John nodded.

"I'm broken," Dean declared. "When are we getting outta here? I don't wanna be here anymore."

"We're leaving when break starts," John answered. "We gotta week and a half left. I'm not listening to your brother bitch about missing school the whole drive to Bobby's. You just gotta suck it up and make it a week and half."

"Can I just skip school?" Dean asked. "I can't deal with this."

"No," John answered seriously. "You'll be at school. And if I find out otherwise, I'll skin ya."

"It _hurts_, Dad," Dean said pointing at his chest. "It hurts so much, right here."

"I know, Buddy," John answered. "I'm going to make up some dinner. I need you to eat. Then you're gonna go to sleep. It'll get better. I promise."

Dean rolled so he was facing the back of the couch so his dad wouldn't see him cry, because that would make this worse.

* * *

_AN: 4/7/13: VampireCari I can't thank you privately because yo_u're _a guest, but Thank you so much for your kind words about my story. You're so nice. Thank you very much!_


	31. Chapter 31

"What's wrong with Romeo?" Bobby asked John. Dean had dropped his duffle on the couch and flopped himself next to it. "He have to break up with that girl he was always babbling on about?"

"No," John shook his head. "She dumped him pretty hard. Didn't see it coming. I'd feel bad for the kid if he hadn't been like this for a week and half. He's really making the most of being sullen."

"Young love, John," Bobby placed a hand on John's shoulder. "You remember how much that sting when it ends."

John huffed a sigh and nodded.

"He'll get over it eventually," Bobby continued. "Find a prettier girl, break her heart right back."

"I don't think it helped much that I made him go to school for a week afterward," John replied. "Made him see her every day, talk to her."

"If he lived a normal life," Bobby said walking into the kitchen and picking up a manila envelope off the table. "He'd been seeing that girl every day for the next three and half years. He'll get over it. He's been through worse. If you interested, though John, I gotta job in Wisconsin that needs a good shake; ten dead brunettes in one apartment building in seventy years."

"Let me see the file," John replied, reaching out to take the file as he stepped closer.

"We'll be leaving for western Wisconsin after Christmas," John told the boys that night over dinner. "Probably won't be there long, but I gotta job."

"Awesome," Dean rolled his eyes.

"So we won't be there long enough to really make friends or nothing?" Sam sighed. "Can we stay til, like, February break or something?"

"We'll see," John answered.

* * *

Bobby always did the best he could to make Christmas good for those boys when they were over there. Christmas morning was filled with the smells of bacon and pancakes, a little tree perched on Bobby's desk with a few gifts for the boys around it. He liked seeing them smile, and it seemed like every time they came back to South Dakota their smiles faded just a little bit more.

They'd really made out that year, each getting new shoes that they both desperately needed. Sam got a big fancy book of lore because Bobby noticed the kid kept sneaking Bobby's old copy up to their room whenever he was over. Dean got a very nice leather wallet that caught his eye when Bobby took the boys to the state fair that summer.

John and Bobby headed back to the kitchen after the boys opened their gifts to talk shop, leaving the boys to their own devices for a while. Sam disappeared upstairs running back down loudly a short time later.

"Here," Sam dropped a package into Dean's lap then sat down next to him. "I hope you like it."

Dean ruffled Sam's shaggy hair and smirked. He pulled the paper apart to find a very worn copy of _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy.

"You were reading _The Hobbit,_" Sam said quickly when Dean looked over at him. "And you seemed to like it and stuff, and I saw those at the Goodwill for a dollar and I figured that you'd want to read them. I know you don't really like books and stuff, but you seemed to like that one, so…"

"Thanks," Dean pulled Sam into a head lock. "I do like it. I'll read 'em."

"After you read them," Sam said softly. "Can I read them?"

"Did you buy me a present for yourself?" Dean chuckled.

"No," Sam scoffed. "I just wanna borrow it when you're done. We share everything else."

"Here," Dean tossed him a little box. "It's not much."

Sam pulled open the little box, finding a new Sony Walkman inside.

"Really?" Sam's eyes went wide. "Where'd you get a hold of something like this?"

"Around?" Dean shrugged. "I didn't steal it. I bought it."

"From a real store?" Sam turned it over in his hands. "These are expensive, Dean. Where'd you get that kind of money?"

"Don't worry about it," Dean said, smiling down at his brother.

Sam looked over at Dean skeptically.

"If you stole the money to buy it," Sam said with a worried expression. "It's still stealing. You gotta stop doing things like that. You're gonna get in trouble."

"I _didn't_ steal it," Dean said seriously. "I swear. Now go get some scissors see if this puppy works."

Sam nodded and jumped up.

Dean had saved up for almost a year to buy that Walkman. Fifty bucks didn't come easy in their life, but he did what he had to do, cutting lawns, washing neighbor's cars, shoveling driveways. He understood why Sam would think that he stole it, but it still stung a little when he was accused.

Sam dropped the scissors off in the coffee table before running upstairs to find a cassette tape. Dean worked to open up the package before Sammy got back downstairs.

"We need some batteries," Dean announced when Sam slid back down next to him. "I didn't think about that."

"I'll see if Bobby's got some," Sam nodded standing up again. "What do we need?"

"Four double A's," Dean answered turning the Walkman over in his hand.

"Bobby's got everything in there," Sam nodded toward the kitchen as he handed Dean the batteries. "I swear, anything you could ever want he has in the junk drawer by the fridge. There's, like, frog brains and bones and all sorts or random stuff."

"I'll keep that in mind," Dean mumbled, shoving the batteries in. "Here kiddo, check it out."

Sam placed the headphones over his ears and stuck his tape in the deck. He leaned back against the couch, big smile across his face. That smile was the best present Dean could ever get.

* * *

"Hey, Dean," Bobby said, popping his head around the wall between the kitchen and living room while wiping his hands on a dish rag after lunch. "Wanna help me out with something out in the yard?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean answered pushing himself up off the sofa and following Bobby out through the junk cars. "What ya want me to do?"

Bobby leaned against a car and tossed a set of keys to him. "I wantcha to drive this thing."

"I don't know how to drive, yet, Uncle Bobby," Dean shook his head, trying to hand the keys back.

"You'll be sixteen in a month right?" Bobby asked, sticking his hands into his pockets. Dean nodded. "You think your daddy's shillin' out a couple hundred bucks to send you to driver's ed? You think he's gonna let a kid with no experience behind a wheel drive the Chevy?"

"No," Dean mumbled.

"Then hop in," Bobby instructed, opening his door.

Dean walked around the car filled with nervous excitement.

"Was this my dad's idea?" Dean asked as he strapped himself in.

"No," Bobby shook his head. "Just think, maybe you need a little cheering up. Your dad told me about the girl in Idaho."

"Oh," Dean said. Bobby watched the boy's whole body language change from excited to sullen again. "You don't have to teach me to drive because you feel sorry for me. You don't have to feel bad for me. It was my fault for falling in love with her in the first place."

"You can't help who you fall in love with, Dean," Bobby said seriously. "Put the key in the ignition and check your mirrors. We're gonna drive around the lot for a while, build up some confidence. Maybe before y'all pack it up and head to Wisconsin we'll have you on the road."

Dean nodded and turned the key, following Bobby's instructions to check the mirrors and pull forward. The best thing about the salvage yard was it was big enough to drive around in circles for hours without it getting repetitive.

"You wanna talk about it?" Bobby said after telling Dean to turn at engine block sitting in the middle of a passage way. "Your girl?"

"Not really," Dean answered making sure he didn't hit a truck bed he was about to pass on the left. "I would really rather just forget about her, but it hurts too much. So I just try to ignore it."

"That's about as healthy as drinking the problems away," Bobby replied.

"That's how you and Dad deal with things," Dean shrugged.

"We're adults," Bobby countered. "You're a fifteen year old. You should talk it out. We've talked about this before, Dean. Just talk to me, okay."

"She just," Dean sighed. "I just don't get it. How can someone just not care? She just didn't even hesitate to dump me like I was nothing. I don't get it, Bobby."

"You probably never will," Bobby replied. "One of the great mysteries of life, women and what they think. I believe your daddy was right telling you that you probably cared a lot more about her than she did about you."

"But," Dean pressed. "Steve, my friend, he's Janie's best friend, Steve said that I was a good thing for her, that the other guy did to her what she did to me. And she just went right back there the first chance she got."

"You'll figure it out soon enough," Bobby said. "Nothing girls do will make a licka sense to you for a long time, probably ever. How about we park the car for now?"

Dean pulled the car back to where they started and turned it off.

"Just know that you're not the only one confused by girls, Dean," Bobby said placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're young, you'll find a new girl, a prettier girl, a smarter girl, and you'll think back to that girl in Idaho and you'll wonder what you ever saw in her. I promise."

Dean handed the keys back to Bobby. "You're sure?"

"Believe it or not Kid," Bobby smiled. "I was a love struck teenage boy once too and so was your Dad and so was every other guy you pass on the street. You'll be fine." He patted Dean on the cheek and popped the door open. "You're gonna be a fine driver; might even have you out on the road tomorrow if you're up to it."

"Really?" Dean's whole face lit up.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "We'll go out in my truck. That's at least road legal."

* * *

Every day for the week they stayed with Bobby, he seemed to need something at the store and made Dean his personal chauffeur. That unfortunately didn't translate into letting Dean drive the Impala when they headed East.

"Please," Dean pleaded. "Just for like, an hour. Bobby says I'm really good."

"I'm not letting you drive this car on the highway," John sighed. "Maybe when we get a place to stay, I'll let you drive around the parking lot of the motel."

"I'm good on the road," Dean nodded. "I'm road ready, ask Bobby. I was driving downtown to do errands for him all week."

"Bobby's truck isn't a '67 Impala," John said seriously. "And downtown Sioux Falls ain't I-90. Not gonna happen til you got a little more experience under your belt Dean."

"How am I gonna get experience if you don't let me drive?"

"You keep up the attitude," John said, turning to look Dean in eye. "And you'll never be behind the wheel of another car while I'm alive. You understand?"

"Yes, sir." Dean slouched down in the front seat. He pulled the book Sam bought him out and decided to read while the sun was still out and he could see the pages.

* * *

They took up residence in a Best Western in what Dean guessed counted as downtown in this "city" as the locals called it. The apartment building with the murdered brunettes was just up the street by the hotel. John enrolled both the boys in school. Since it was such a small town, the middle school and high school were in the same building. John decided that he'd keep the boys here until the end of February when break started, like Sam wanted. He didn't like watching his boys struggle to fit in and feel like they were always behind when they came into a new town, but that was the job, and there wasn't really anything he could do to change it. Not until he found the thing that killed their mom.

It took about twenty minutes talking to locals to find out what was going on in that apartment building. According to local legend, a man tired murdered his wife in apartment 3A in the thirties. Before he was convicted, however he was killed in a prison riot, lore had it that he came back and killed her, since the wife was the first victim. Then every woman who even vaguely resembled the woman was killed. It took a lot longer to find out where the dickhead was buried than it did to confirm the story.

"We can always rent an apartment and have Sammy live there," Dean suggested. "With that hair anyone could mistake him for skinny chick."

"Be nice to your brother," John sighed.

"Yeah, jerk," Sam stuck his tongue out.

"You need a hair cut," Dean replied. "You look ridiculous. How can you even see?"

"Shut up," Sam whined, shoved Dean hard in the ribs.

"Don't pick a fight with your brother," John exhaled. "This room isn't big enough to have the two of you wrestling."

* * *

John sent Sam and Dean over to the Hillside Cemetery to find the guy while he stood watch over the building. It was a pretty wide open place than they were used to. Even in the dark, it would be very easy to see what was happening if you drove up.

"This is stupid," Sam whined. They'd barely broke the surface of the grave.

"Shut up and dig," Dean replied. "We don't got a lotta time and we're out of in the open. Dig Sammy, I can't do it without ya."

It took forever with Sam complaining every twenty minutes that his arms were tired and how stupid this was.

"Shut up and dig," Dean said for the eighth time when they heard a car start to pull up. "Drop the shovel and run. Run as fast as you possibly can before they get over here. Go get dad."

Dean lifted his brother out of the grave and watched as he started to take off in the opposite direction as the approaching car.

"Fuck," Dean breathed when he saw the car slowly creeping toward him was black and white. He turned to see where Sam was, and thankfully he was nowhere in sight.

"Excuse me," The office said shining a light directly into Dean's face. "May I ask what you think you're doing?"

"Diggin' for treasure?" Dean said with a sly smile on his face.

"Climb out there for me," the officer said, smacking on a piece of gum.

Dean pulled himself up and brushed his shirt off.

"Turn around for me and put your hands on your head."

Dean followed directions was promptly arrested and led to the car while the officer read him his rights. He was heading to lock up for trespass, but it could be pushed up to grave robbery depending on what the officer found when ran his prints at the station.

Dean leaned forward and rested his head on the glass between the seats as they drove across town. With any luck Sammy had made it back to the hotel and their dad so they could finish up the job before the spirit got anyone else.

* * *

Dean sat in the holding cell with a few of the local drunks, waiting. He knew better than to say anything before his dad got there. It took over two hours before his dad showed up to bail him out.

"According to the people I talked to in there," John explained once they got to the car. "You'll be wanted in the court downtown next week to see a judge."

"Are we bookin' it then?" Dean asked seriously.

"No," John answered. "We're staying. I don't need warrants following my sixteen year old."

"So what happens after that?" Dean mumbled softly.

"You'll be fined," John replied. "Probably quite a bit, but it's a first offence, and the police said they weren't filing disturbing a grave site to the charges since it's the first time you've been arrested. Otherwise you'd be spending the night in jail."

"Oh," Dean squirmed a little.

"Gotta be more careful," John shook his head.

"It was a wide open grave yard," Dean defended. "There was, like, no way to not be seen there."

"I managed it," John shot back. "Got the job you couldn't do."

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "I got Sammy outta there though."

"Yeah," John sighed. "That's about the only thing you did right today."

* * *

Dean remained silent as they drove back to the hotel. He'd never seen more relieved look on his little brother's face when he walked through the door.

"I was sure you were going to jail," Sam said, voice muffled by Dean's shirt.

"I was for a little bit," Dean said. "But it's all good for now."

"Til next week when I have to figure out how I'm going to come up with a couple grand cuz you don't know how to cut and run," John said, dropping his heavy leather jacket into the chair next to the television.

"But at least, Dean doesn't have to go to jail with a bunch of crazy people with toothbrush knives and stuff," Sam reasoned.

"You're not allowed to watch TV anymore, Sammy," Dean chuckled messing up Sammy's hair before sitting on the bed to take off his boots.

"This isn't a joke, Dean," John said seriously. "Don't treat what happened tonight as a joke. I've been doing this job for eleven years, and I've _never_ been arrested digging up a grave. This was the _first_ thing I let you do by yourself and I had to bail you outta jail."

"I said I was sorry," Dean shrugged. "I can't go back and change it, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Enough of the attitude," John replied. "I wish I could think of something to take away from you, but I can't even think of a proper way to punish you for this."

Dean looked down at floor, away from his dad. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do about it. He couldn't change it. There was always a chance of getting caught and with the grave site wide open like it was in full view of the road. He thought he did the right thing getting Sam out of there, but apparently not. Apparently he needed to be perfect.


	32. Chapter 32

"Listen real good," John said as he tied Dean's tie for him the day of his hearing. "I want ya to tell the judge that you were dared to dig it up. I want you to say that you're the new kid, and you were trying to make friends and that's what you were doing."

"You want me to _lie,_" Dean scoffed. "To a judge in a courtroom."

"You really think that 'I was digging up the corpse of a serial killer ghost', sounds a whole hell of a lot more plausible." John rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"But they're gonna make me swear to tell the truth," Dean replied.

"Yeah," John nodded. "And you're going to say what I tell you to say to keep your ass out of jail. Cuz you if open your mouth the way you usually open your mouth the judge is gonna take one look at ya and send you to county for being a wise ass punk. So you keep your smart mouth shut expect when the judge speaks to you and come off like a lost little puppy lookin' to fit in and you'll get off with a fine."

"You can't lie in a courtroom, Dad," Dean answered. "I could go to jail for _that_."

"Yeah," John nodded. "Just channel your little brother's puppy dog eyes and you'll be fine."

"I'm a horrible liar," Dean shook his head. "It's never gonna work."

"Lyin's part of the job," John said seriously. "You wanna be a hunter, right?"

Dean nodded and looked toward the floor.

"They you gotta start getting better at it," John said taping the side of Dean's face. "And if you play this right, you'll look like an idiot teenager and not a psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath," Dean defended.

"You were digging up a grave in the middle of night," John said, talking across the room to pick up his leather jacket off the chair. "You don't play it off like a dare or a prank you'll be labeled a psychopath for the rest of your life. And the next time the police pick you up somewhere, you won't get off light. Let's get going."

* * *

Dean could think of about six hundred thousand ways he'd rather be spending the day than sitting on a hard court room bench sweating it out about how he was going to be a good liar in front of a judge and a court room full of people looking at him trying to find out why a sixteen year old kid was randomly digging a grave in the middle of the night. He tried to picture what Sam looked like when he really wanted something; how is eyes looked. Dean couldn't say no to Sam's sad face. Nobody could say no to that face. The two of them had been getting free desserts from middle aged roadside diner waitresses for years.

"Sit still," John whispered out of the side of his mouth.

Dean wasn't even aware he was fidgeting until his dad mentioned it. His palms were sweaty and his mouth dry.

"Calm down," John said placing a hand on Dean's bouncing knee. "When you get up there, you just tell the judge what happened. Breathe and _stop fidgeting_ and you'll be fine."

"I can be nervous right?" Dean said back. "That's a normal reaction to being in a court room?"

"Breathe," John replied. "Just calm down, everything will work out."

When Dean was finally called up to stand before the judge, he'd been replaying the story his dad had given him to tell over and over in his head so many times he was sure he'd remember it.

"Mr… Winchester?" the judge looked down over his glasses at him.

"Yes sir," Dean nodded white knuckling the podium he was standing behind.

"Care to share with the court what you were doing in the Hillside Cemetery at 4 am on January 26th?"

"It was a dare," Dean mumbled, eyes fixed on the grains of the podium.

"Speak up, Mr. Winchester, we can't hear you."

"It was a dare," Dean said just loud enough to get the point across. "I was trying to make friends."

"You really think that's the best way to make friends?" the judge asked.

"No sir," Dean said quickly shaking his head, looking up toward the judge. "I just wanted to fit in. They said I could hang with them if I did it and when I got arrested I thought that they'd think I was cool or something but they didn't. So I still don't got any friends."

He let out a short breath. He'd gotten the story out just as his dad told him too. One hurtle down, who knew how many more he'd have to jump before he got out of there.

"Do you usually do whatever a group of other kids tells you to do?" the judge asked. "Is that how you make friends usually?"

Dean shook his head quickly, his dad hadn't given him an answer for this one. He did his best to wing it. "No sir. It's just… I just… I needed… I wanted friends. And I don't really make them that easily and I just wanted friends, sir."

"How old are you?" the asked rifling through some papers he had in front of him.

"Sixteen, sir," Dean said eyes focusing back down on the podium.

"I'm guessing you just moved to this area?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yes sir."

"There's easier ways to make friends than digging up a grave in the middle of the night," the judge said. "Life's not all about getting people to like you."

"I know," Dean mumbled.

"According to what I have in front of me," the judge said. "This is your first offence."

Dean nodded.

"You understand the maximum punishment for trespass is up to a year in jail?"

Dean nodded again.

"Do you think you learned anything from this Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. "I learned my lesson. I never want to go back to jail; even if it was just for a couple of hours. I don't want to do that again. I don't gotta impress anybody to try to fit in. It usually backfires anyway."

Dean still couldn't focus on the judge. He was so slippery with sweat he knew he'd have to shower when they got back to the motel. His shirt was sticking to his back in a way that "gross" didn't really cover.

"Since this is your first offence, and you seem like a kid who had a big lapse in judgment. I'm going to be lenient with you. You're being fine $600, which can be paid to the clerk in the lobby. You can also set up a payment schedule with her. But if I see you in front of me again, Mr. Winchester, you won't get off easy."

"Thank you sir," Dean said. He sort of half bowed to the judge as he followed the bailiff out of the court room.

It took about ten seconds to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. His dad met him moments later, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Good job," John told him.

"Where are we gonna get six hundred dollars?" Dean squeaked his voice hadn't cracked like that in a few years.

"There's a grocery store across from the hotel, you're old enough to work now," John suggested. "Let's fill out your paperwork and get back before Sammy gets out of school."

* * *

"You really want me to get a real job?" Dean asked after he got out of the shower. "Like a job job, bagging groceries or some shit."

"Watch your mouth, Dean," John sighed never looking up from his journal. "And yeah, I think that would be a good idea. You can work a few hours after school, maybe some weekends to get a little pocket money and pay off that fine."

"But… um," Dean exhaled slowly as he sat down on the bed. "I thought I was gonna get to go hunting more now."

"Here's the deal," John replied. "You pay off half that fine, I'll pay the other half. After it's done away with, I'll take you with me more. Sound fair?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, yes sir. Sounds more than fair."

"Put on some shoes and get over there, apply," John instructed.

"Right now?" Dean asked.

"Yes, Dean," John said not even bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Do it now."

* * *

Dean got a job bagging groceries for five bucks an hour three days a week. It wasn't hard work, but it sucked, it sucked horribly. From his years living on the road and traveling he knew that people on the Midwest were supposed to be some of the nicest, but people were assholes. At least he worked with some pretty okay people. Most of the people that worked the nights and weekend were around his age, he'd seen a few of them at school. He'd sit out behind the store on his breaks while a couple of his co-worker smoked cigarettes and make fun of the customers. He did his best to be the last one to leave when he closed so that no one would notice that he lived in the hotel across the street. Dean figured he could do a whole lot worse for a first job. Pulling in a hundred bucks a week wasn't anything he was going to complain about either.

He could've paid off the fine easy in about a month and half, but Dean found that money had a hard time staying in his new wallet.

"Wanna head out to the arcade?" Dean asked Sam after a slow night of nothing in the stuffy motel room. "Or catch a movie? Let's just get outta here for a while."

"That money's for your fine," Sam said sounding more like an adult any eleven year old had the right to sound. "You gotta save it, or give it to Dad so he can save it for you. You can't just blow it on whatever or you'll get sent back to jail."

"That's not how it works," Dean rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure it is," Sam nodded. "Have you ever watched 'Cops'? That's what happened when you don't pay fines. You get arrest warrants and then you get pulled over for speeding and you go to jail, again, and not just for a couple hours this time. I looked up what the maximum punishment for what you were charged with. You can go to jail for a year. And not just kid jail, Dean, real jail, with gang members and murderers and stuff."

"There's no _murderers_ in county lock up," Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, I just need to get out of this space. It's too small."

"I'm not letting you spend all your money," Sam reasoned.

"Then we won't buy anything," Dean sighed. "I just need to get out of this room."

Sam got up like it was a burden and followed Dean out of the room and down the stairs.

"Whaddya wanna do?" Dean asked throwing an arm over Sam's shoulders. "What do all those cool sixth graders do now-a-days?"

"I have no idea, Dean," Sam sighed trying to squirm out from under Dean's arm. "Since I'm _definitely _not one of the _cool kids_."

"What are you talkin' about?" Dean chuckled. "You're my kid brother of course you're a cool kid."

"Whatever," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, though," Dean said. "Whatcha wanna do? It's not gonna be the end of the world if I spend twenty bucks."

"Do… can we go to the music store?" Sam mumbled. "There's a tape that I want. This kid at school has it, and I listened to it. I don't think Dad would get it for me cuz it's not his kind of music, but I really like it."

"It's some stupid top forties shit music isn't it?" Dean asked.

"They play it on the radio," Sam answered.

"I'll get if for you," Dean said. "If you promise _never_ to put it in the cassette player in the car."

"I'll only listen to it on my Walkman," Sam nodded. "I also need new batteries for that."

"Alright," Dean smiled grabbing Sam by the shoulders and pointing him toward downtown. "Lead the way, Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam mumbled under his breath.

* * *

Dean ended up buying Sam three cassettes of some band he'd never heard of and from the look of the guys on the cover, he didn't think he'd ever want to.

"Where did you even find music like this?" Dean asked turning the case over in his hand at the McDonald's down the street from the record store.

"School," Sam said, wrapping his mouth around the straw drinking his chocolate shake.

Dean looked at his brother skeptically. "I don't like these kids that you're hanging around with."

"You don't even know them," Sam rolled his eyes. "You can't judge people by the type of music they like."

"Yes, I can," Dean replied.

"You listen to old people music," Sam responded.

"I listen to _good_ music," Dean corrected. "I don't even know what this is."

"Give it back," Sam sighed reaching across the table. "Don't be a jerk."

Dean placed the case on the table and flicked it back toward Sam. "You about ready? We can walk and finish up your drink."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, placing his wrappers on the tray and standing up.

Dean pulled Sam close as they walked down the sidewalk back to the hotel.

"You need a new winter jacket," Dean announced.

"No," Sam shook his head. "This one's good."

"It's two sized too small, at least," Dean said. "I'll get you a new one."

"After you pay off your fine," Sam replied. "I don't need a new one right now, this one's fine. You don't even have a real coat."

"I'm plenty warm," Dean shrugged. "Sweatshirts are good enough, but you need a good coat. One that fits. I'll take you to Kmart before we leave here, alright. Get ya some good stuff. Some pants that fit too, you're showing off a little bit too much sock."

"Don't spend all your money on me," Sam shook his head. "You worked for it."

"But I don't need anything," Dean answered. "You're growing. Your shoes are probably too small."

When they reached the hotel, Dean dug around in his pocket for the key.

"You don't have to by me stuff," Sam said. "I'm fine, really. Thanks for the tapes and stuff, but you don't gotta spend all your money on me."

"If I don't who's gonna?" Dean asked seriously. "When's the last time Dad took us to a store? It was like two years ago."

Sam shifted on his feet as Dean unlocked the door to the room. He dropped his empty shake cup into the trashcan by the door. John was sitting at the desk rifling through his journal.

"Hey boys," he said, not looking up.

"Whatcha got?" Dean asked sitting down on the corner of the bed. "Anything good?"

"I think there's a shape shifter in Milwaukee," John answered. "You working this weekend?"


	33. Chapter 33

Dean got the following week, the week of February vacation, off from work. John said that since Dean hadn't finished paying his half of his fine off yet, they'd come back to this town after break or the hunt was over.

"Let's get a move on Sammy," John said shouldering his bag. Sam was taking his sweet time backing up.

"Why do I even have to go?" Sam whined. "It's not like I actually get to _do_ anything, and I have a science project I gotta finish over the break."

"I'm not leavin' you alone in a motel room for a week," John sighed. "Hurry up, check out's in twenty minutes."

"What about my homework?" Sam huffed.

"I'm sure there's a library in Milwaukee you can do your homework in," John said turning toward the door. "You got ten minutes to get in the car or I'm coming up you and dragging you out. I don't care if you're done packing or not."

John slammed the door on the way out, leaving Sam and Dean alone to finishing backing up their stuff.

"This isn't fair," Sam huffed shoving his shirts into the bag. "Why can't I stay here or at one of my friend's houses?"

"You know Dad would never allow anything like that," Dean answered. "You know how he doesn't like leaving us with other people."

"He left you to fend for yourself when you were a lot younger than me, Dean," Sam spat. "For longer than a week. It's stupid."

"At least we're comin' back here," Dean reasoned. "There's that. We're not switching schools. You got that to look forward too."

"Yeah," Sam rolled his eyes. "At least I don't have to be the new kid a _different_ school. I just get to be the weirdo new kid who lives in a hotel at this school."

Dean started to pull pictures off the mirror, the last step when packing up a place and just let Sam vent.

"Just once, Dean, just _one _time I wanna be normal. I wanna have a best friend and finish a school year where I started it. Every other kid ever gets to do that. It's not far that we don't. Why don't you care about it?"

"I care that you care," Dean shrugged. "Get your crap together, seriously, Dad's gonna blow a gasket."

Sam doubled checked the dresser drawers and closets before walking with Dean toward the door. Dean wrapped him arm over his shoulder and closed the door behind them as they headed out toward the car.

* * *

The Impala was a whole lot bigger when Sam and Dean were both small enough that they could take up half the back seat each when they slept. Before could barely lay down comfortably and to both fit, now Sam had to lay his tiny boney frame, basically, on top of his brother. John kept telling the boys to stop complaining that there was plenty of room, but that was easy to say when he had a whole bench seat to himself and didn't have an elbow digging into him. Dad said he wasn't shelling out for a motel room since they were only staying in Milwaukee for a few days and there was a public washroom at the YMCA that the boys could shower in. John claimed that he'd spent enough at the Best Western in Lancaster, which he didn't waste time blaming on Dean, even though there was a 100 percent supernatural free apartment building less than a block and half way that would be cheaper than spending months in a motel.

In town, John had been scoping out possibles, since the shape shifter could be anyone. He'd assigned Sam a Polaroid camera he'd gotten from a pawn shop and made him take pictures of pretty much everyone that passed on the street. Dean spent a nice long afternoon trying not to look like a creep while checking out pictures of people eyes.

"This is freakin' pointless," Sam sighed, drinking a milkshake while sitting next to Dean on a park bench. "There's, like, a million people in this town we're never gonna find 'em."

"Dad knows what he's doing," Dean answered staring at the next picture in the pile. "He's sure that the shifter's been in the square every day this month, that's where the weird sightings have been. If they've been there in the last two days we'll find them."

"There has to be an easier way," Sam said. "Do you even know what you're looking for?"

"This," Dean dropped a photo onto the bench between then and pointed to a middle aged man in a business suit. "See how his eyes are weird?"

"Glare," Sam rolled his eyes.

"No, dude," Dean shook his head. "They're, like, glowing. That means he's not him. He's a shifter. Now all we gots to do it find him, and shoot him with a silver bullet." Dean let a large smile fill his face.

"You're a freak," Sam deadpanned. "You are _way_ too excited about killing a guy."

"Not a guy, Sammy," Dean corrected. "A monster. It's not the same at all. That _thing_ has been posing as other people and killing their families. We gotta take care of it. That's what me and dad do. That's what you're gonna do when you can wear clothes from the grown up department." He ruffled Sam's hair and smirked.

Sam pulled away and rolled his eyes again.

"Let's go find Dad, get him to run down this guy," Dean said standing up. "Finish that up before we find him. He's really been getting on me about spending money."

"Maybe you should pay your fine," Sam answered, taking one last long drink before dropping his cup into the trash can next to the bench.

"Maybe _you_ should stop looking hungry and growing," Dean countered. "Let's go Short stack, we gotta monster to shoot in the face."

"Someone's going to hear you someday when you talk like that," Sam said seriously as Dean directed his shoulders back toward downtown where their dad was. "And your either going to get arrested again, or end up in a mental hospital."

"Just keep thinking positive there, Sammy," Dean sighed. "It's really becoming."

* * *

The shifter was impersonating a guy called Anders, an accountant at some big firm, the details weren't exactly important. What was essential was following it and making sure it didn't kill anyone before John and Dean could get to it. Sam had as much of his science homework as he could spread across the backseat. John had the car parked across the street, watching the house through a set of binoculars.

"Look," John handed the binoculars over the Dean. "See?"

Dean peered into the house, where he saw two of Anders, one tied to a dining room chair and one causally walking around the house.

"What are we gonna do?" Dean asked.

"Hope no one drives by and sees people looking into houses with binoculars," Sam sighed. "This is so stupid."

"Shut up," Dean rolled his eyes.

"It's the middle of the day," Sam replied. "This is the dumbest thing I've even been a part of."

"Well, when you're in charge you can come up with better ideas," Dean spat back.

"I don't want to be in charge," Sam argued.

"Then you don't get to make any decisions," Dean smirked.

"Knock it off," John growled. "Both of you just stop talking."

Dean turned and stuck his tongue out at his brother.

"I said cut it out," John said smacking Dean in the chest.

"Sorry, sir" Dean mumbled. "What are we gonna do about him?"

"Wait til night fall," John shrugged. "Or until he leaves, and we follow him. Try to get him alone."

"You're basically stalking someone," Sam said. "Like a serial killer or a psychopath."

"No one asked your opinion, Sammy," Dean sighed. "So don't give it."

"Boys," John sighed. "Neither of you say anything until we get this thing."

Dean handed the binoculars back to his dad and stared straight ahead out the windshield. John turned up the radio and kept his eyes locked on the house across the street.

"As far as I could tell looking into the guy," John explained. "He's been replaced for two days, his coworkers said he's been a bit off. They also told me that his wife and daughters are up in Green Bay visiting her parents and won't be back til the weekend. This shifter's M.O. has been to sneak into families that are on vacation and takes over before killing them all. So I don't think he'll kill the real Anders until the rest of the family comes home."

Dean nodded and turned his gun over in his hand. He was pretty excited about this hunt, having the opportunity to make it right; erase all the times he'd messed up. He was ready for this, ready to prove himself. He was going to make his dad proud this time, no matter what.

* * *

The shifter left the house around five pm, and started to walk down the street, John followed him closely in the car, just far enough away to keep from being too suspicious, not matter what Sam said. The kid watched too many cop dramas on TV, not everything was going to get them arrested. He honestly just needed to chill out.

"Can you just get out of the car and follow him?" Sam whined. "This car isn't exactly the most inconspicuous vehicle in existence. We're gonna get caught."

"Sam," John said angrily. "If you don't stop whining and just do your homework, I'm gonna drop you off at the nearest fire station and leave you there."

"That only works for babies," Sam sighed.

"Which is exactly how you're acting," John said looking back into the rear-view. "Do your homework."

They followed the shifter until he turned into an alley way, then Dean jumped out of the car to follow while John pulled the car to the other end of the alley to block the way. A few moments later, John was by his side as Dean got the thing cornered. Dean's hands were shaking until he felt John's hand on his shoulder.

"You got this kiddo," John whispered as the shifter turned back toward them. "Just bottles on a fence."

Dean did his best to aim as close as he could to the shifter's heart and pulled the trigger.

The body fell with a wet thump onto the ground. Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and turned wide eyed to his father.

"Good," John nodded. "You did good."

"What… what do we do with the body?" Dean asked slowly. "We can't just leave it here."

"There's a tarp in the car," John said calmly tossing Dean the keys. "We're gonna wrap it up and stick in the trunk; burn the body in the woods on the way back to Lancaster."

Dean nodded, heart still pounding hard he felt like he might vomit all over his shoes.

"Go get it," John instructed.

Dean nodded quickly again and took off toward the car. He put his palm to his mouth as he unlocked the trunk and pulled the big blue tarp out. He wasn't really sure what he was expecting when he shot the shifter, maybe that it would turn into some kind of monster instead of staying in human form, maybe that it would disappear into a puff of smoke. He just wasn't expecting it to just hit the ground with a thump. He wasn't ready to watch blood, real blood, pour out of its chest. He wasn't ready to roll a human body into a tarp like it was nothing and shove in the trunk of a car.

"You did real good," John said patting Dean on the shoulder after closing the trunk. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm just, adrenaline I think."

"You'll get used to it," John said. "As long as you remember that you're saving people. You're doing a good thing. You did the right thing here. You stopped a killer from murdering an entire family."

"I know, sir," Dean said, finally able to look his dad in the eyes.

"Alright," John smiled taping Dean on the cheek. "Let's head back. Why don't you take the first shift driving?"

"Seriously?" Dean perked up as he took the keys dangling from John's hand. "I can drive?"

"First hundred miles," John nodded. "Should get ya some highway experience sometime."

"You're sure?" Dean said skeptically.

"You did good today," John nodded walking by him and toward the passenger's side door. "You do good, you get rewarded. That's how it works right? Just don't wreck my car and everything will be fine."

"Please don't kill us," Sam groaned when Dean got behind the wheel. "I've worked too hard on this project to die before I turn it in."

"Keep your mouth shut, Sammy," John said. "Dean's gonna do just fine."

* * *

Dean _did not_ fit in at the school in Lancaster. He was too rough in his too big leather jacket and biker boots. He tried to charm quite a few of the girls, but they were either too intimated by his attitude or scared of him to show interest back. He simply wanted out of this town. He only had to work another week at the grocery store to pay off the last fifty bucks on his fine then hopefully Dad would let them pack up and go. He'd given up on most of his classes, just sat in the back and pretended to pay attention as teacher carried on. After the shock of the first kill wore off he was riding a high, like he could do nothing wrong. Nothing could touch him anymore, not when he was a hero, a life saver.

He sat in the back row of his homeroom class half paying attention as his guidance counselor droned about career aptitude tests, apparently there was a big career day that afternoon. All sorts of different vocations were going to be there. Dean couldn't help but chuckle thinking about his dad or Bobby in a both telling the teenagers in this town about hunting supernatural creatures. He'd pay good money to watch that.

* * *

He walked around the gym picking up pamphlets for colleges he'd never go to and jobs he'd never want, trying to please the adults around him until he saw the firefighter table. The man standing on the other side wasn't much older than Dean, maybe in his early twenties. Dean sauntered over and picked up the materials.

"Think you're interested?" the young fire fighter said.

"Maybe," Dean shrugged. "Always wanted to be a fireman when I was a kid, you know."

"Feel like you're helpin' people?" the fire fighter nodded. "I'm David." He extended his hand out.

"Dean," he answered, shaking the offering. "I always wanted to do good, I guess, save people, be like a hero I guess."

"Fire fighters can definitely get quite a hero complex," David chuckled. "We have an explorers program for teenagers. It can help get your foot in the door if you decide to pursue it. It looks good on college apps too." David nodded toward the pamphlets he had in his hand.

"Yeah, probably ain't got the grades for college," Dean shrugged. "Just trying to make the teachers happy you know? They think I'm this trouble maker. I get blamed for pretty much everything that goes wrong in this school. It's like a big game of blame the mysterious new kid."

"The explorer program can help with your reputation," David smirked. "Take you from being that kid that teachers see as a problem to someone to look up to."

"Yeah, okay, man," Dean chuckled. "You don't gotta sell it so hard."

"I'm serious," David answered. "You know Mr. Sherman? Shop teacher, kind of a giant dick?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

"Back in the day, when I went here," David explained. "Sherman had me written up for something almost every day; talking back, being a disturbance to the rest of the class, looking at him funny, whatever he could think of. Told me I'd never amount to anything. Then I came to this stupid career day thing, stood at this table and talked to the guy that's now my Captain became an explorer. Then I took the fire academy courses when I graduated. Showed all those assholes that didn't think I could amount to something. You don't gotta be what they say you are. They don't define you."

"Really?" Dean picked up the explorers program pamphlet and started to read. "I got this little brother, looks up to me and stuff. Thinks I'm this great thing. I just want to show him that I'm really worth looking up to I guess, before he realizes I can't walk on water. You really think I can do this?"

"Talk to Mr. Sherman, ask him about David Lowell," David smiled. "I was you, Dean. Just a kid that everyone thought was a punk that would never go anywhere. If you got the drive, kid, you can do anything."

"Thanks," Dean nodded. "I'll look into this."

"I hope to see ya at the station sometime," David smiled, extending his hand again.

"Yeah," Dean nodded shaking his hand again. "I try."

* * *

"Hey, Dad," Dean said as he straightened his tie in the mirror getting ready for work.

"What kiddo," John answered not looking up from his journal.

"I was thinking," Dean said carefully. "We had this assembly at school, career day thing, and I got talkin' to the dude, a fire fighter. He said they got this explorer program for teenagers and stuff that wanna be fire fighters. And while I was waiting for Sammy to get out I looked it up on the computer, I guess a lot of towns have those kinds of programs."

"You gotta point?" John replied looking up.

"I was thinkin' that maybe I wanted to do it," Dean said. "You know, maybe I could join one of those programs in the next town we land in. I mean, like, I've always wanted to be a fire fighter. Save people be a real hero."

"I thought you wanted to be a hunter?" John asked.

"I do," Dean nodded. "I think I can be both, you know."

"You can't be both," John replied. "You grew up in the life, Dean. You know you don't gotta home base. You'll move around too much to do that kind of thing."

"Maybe I can be like Uncle Bobby," Dean said. "Have a house and whatever, live in one town but still work cases."

"Bobby's a special case," John said. "How many other hunters got a second job?"

"Pastor Jim," Dean answered.

"Another special case," John said quickly. "There ain't many guys that can do the job and have a home. Now, honestly, there's nothing I'd like to see more than you and your brother in a nice stable place, but you can't have both. Either you wanna be a hunter or you wanna do something else."

"I've wanted to be fireman my whole life," Dean said. "I mean, I still got that fire truck you bought me for my first birthday after Mom died. It's in my duffle bag. I wanna do that. I wanna be able to save people, make sure no one has to grow up like we did."

"What do you think I'm doing?" John asked. "Exactly what you just said. I started doing this to find the thing that killed your mom. She didn't die of smoke inhalation or burn up, a monster got her. She didn't get up on that ceiling herself. Something put her there, and no fire fighter could have saved her, but a hunter... a hunter could have, Dean."

"Can you just think about it?" Dean sighed. "It could be cool. Maybe we'll get what killed her before I finish school and we can get a house and whatever. I think I wanna do this Dad. I think it would be good for Sammy to see me doing something with my life. I don't want him to think I'm a loser when he grows up."

"He's not gonna think you're a loser," John sighed. "I'll think about it. Find out how much something like that costs and I'll think about it. Now get to work before you're late."

"Thank, sir," Dean nodded, before turning and heading out the hotel room door.

* * *

_AN: I'm sorry about the hunting portion of this chapter. I'm better at writing the human element than the monster element. I know it could be a lot better, but I need to read more stories that have hunting descriptions to really get a feel for it. I hope what I have gets the point across. _


	34. Chapter 34

"Hey, Dad," Dean said softly as they drove across the Midwest in July, heading from Tennessee to California, Sam was curled under John's heavy leather jacket, a sweatshirt balled under his head as a pillow fast asleep. Dean had been listening to his little brother's soft snores for the last two hundred miles.

"What's up?" John yawned, it was getting toward the time of night here John usually started to look for motels off the highway.

"Does it bother you that the things we're hunting are people sometimes?" Dean asked shifting against the back of seat.

"They aren't people anymore," John said simply. "They might have been at one point, but now they're monsters, and monsters kill people. It's our job to make sure that they don't."

"But, like, that shifter that I shot," Dean mumbled. "He was, like, a dude. And we had a guy in the trunk of the car, like a dead body of a dude, and we lit him on fire in the woods."

"No," John corrected. "It wasn't a guy. He was a monster pretending to be a guy. A monster that had already killed twelve people."

"But he _looked _like a guy," Dean said.

"This is still bothering you?" John sighed. "It was months ago."

"I keep thinking about it," Dean shrugged. "And the demon in Knoxville, it was possessing a woman. She _died_ because of us. She would still be alive if we weren't around."

"No," John shook his head. "The demon killed her. It killed her long before we got there. We saved her body from being used by the hell bitch. That girl wasn't in there anymore."

"But she would still be alive—"

"No, kiddo," John shook his head. "It's our job to rid the world of the bad things. If we don't, things like what happened to your mom will happen to other people. You don't want that right?"

"No sir," Dean answered. "It's never bothered you?"

"Maybe in the beginning," John answered. "But you get used to it."

"I'll get used to it," Dean said mostly to himself.

"You're still a kid," John said. "The life can take some getting used to. Maybe you weren't ready yet."

"No, sir," Dean said quickly. "I'm not a kid any more. I'm ready. I can do the job. I can. It's just… maybe I thought they would_ look_ like monsters, you know."

"You just gotta trust your gut," John nodded, taking the next exit off the highway. "Trust me when I tell you that something's a monster. You can't see the person part of the monster. They're evil, they all are. We're doing pest control, keeping everything in order. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded as John pulled the car into the motel just off the highway. "I understand."

"Good," John said turning off the ignition. "Wake up your brother. I'm gonna go check us in."

Dean nodded and popped open his door. He'd never tell his dad, or Sam, or even Bobby, but he still saw that shape shifter in his sleep. He still heard his body hit the ground, still smelt the burning flesh and felt the heat radiating against him while he watched it burn. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to separate that part of it. What if that monster had a brother or a dad? What is they killed some monster's mom. Wouldn't that make the monsters want to come after them? He didn't know how to bring this part up to his father; he doubted his father would see it like that. To John it was always black and white, good or bad. Dean needed to learn to think that way or he'd never make his dad proud. He'd just have to hold the feelings of doing something wrong in until he could figure it out himself.

* * *

"How long are we gonna be stuck here?" Sam asked as they started to settle into a pre-furnished two bed room apartment in Northern California. "Are we at least going to start school here?"

"It depends," John shrugged, dropping his duffle bag on the kitchen floor. "Bobby's not even sure what we're dealing with up here, could be a spirit, skin walker, could be multiple creatures hitting the same area at once. Once I get a handle on it, I'll figure out what else is going on out here. Could be here two weeks, could be here two months."

"Think you'll need help with this one?" Dean asked eagerly.

"Not right now," John answered. "I'm gonna go gather some intel in town, see if I can figure out what's going on. I'll be back late, probably not back for dinner. You can fend for yourselves?"

The boys looked at each other than back to their dad and nodded.

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded. "Of course we can."

"Good," John nodded. "Landlord said that the cables hooked up, should be working. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

John nodded, turned on his heel and walked out the door, leaving the boys to their own devices.

"If Dad doesn't want your help it's really dangerous isn't it?" Sam asked right after the door closed.

"Or it's an easy one man job," Dean answered.

"Yeah, but you've been helping with everything all summer," Sam reasoned. "Even on the little dinky little hunts that _I _probably could have taken care of myself. So, this one has to be really big."

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean told him. "Dad hasn't said anything to be about it."

"It's Sam," Sam said letting himself fall over-dramatically into one of the kitchen chairs. He scanned the white washed apartment.

"Since when?" Dean chuckled.

"Since now," Sam answered. "I'm not a baby anymore."

"You'll always be a baby to me, Sammy."

"Whatever," Sam sighed. "If we have an apartment that means we're staying a while, right?"

"Usually," Dean answered, pushing himself up so he was sitting on the counter.

"So maybe I can make some friends over the summer," Sam said. "And have some friends over the school year."

"Maybe," Dean shrugged. "Might be a couple kids your age in this building, you never know."

"Do we even have money for food?" Sam huffed. "I'm starving."

"We had lunch an hour ago," Dean rolled his eyes. Sam stared at him with a serious look on his face. "I think I still have, like, forty bucks. But I'm not getting food now. _We had lunch an hour ago_."

"Can we walk to a grocery store and get some snacks?" Sam whined. "And find something for dinner? I'm hungry."

"You better start growing soon," Dean said, dropping off the counter. "You can't keep eating like you do and stay four foot and sixty pounds."

"I'm almost five feet tall, Dean," Sam scoffed rolling his eyes. "Uncle Bobby said I'm gonna be super tall one day. He can tell. Cuz Dad's tall and you're kinda tall."

"Sometimes Uncle Bobby says things to make you stop talking," Dean smirked. "Cuz ya kinda talk a lot, and it's annoying, but he's too nice to just tell you to shut up."

"You're a jerk," Sam said, glaring.

"You love me," Dean winked. "Come on, let's go explore."

* * *

There was a grocery store about half a block away from their apartment building. Dean figured Dad would probably want him to get a weekend job here since he couldn't go on this hunt with him. He figured it wouldn't hurt to at least pick up an application. He could always use the money. As much as he make fun of the kid for being short, Sammy was starting to shoot up. He was going to need new clothes again and lord knew Dad wasn't going to buy them. He'd talk it over with his dad when he got back from wherever he was in the morning.

"Go to the snack aisle," Dean instructed pushing a shopping cart at Sam. "Don't go crazy, I only got forty bucks. I'll meet you there in a minute."

"Right," Sam nodded.

Dean watched as his brother got a running start and jumped on the back of the cart and rode it toward the chip aisle. He chuckled to himself as he watched toward customer service. The girl behind the counter was soft spoken and pretty, she giggled as Dean approached, according to her nametag her name was Missy. Instead of answering when he asked for an application she blushed and giggled.

"Please?" Dean smiled.

She nodded and turned around, going through a folder of paper and returning with his application.

"Are you going to fill it out here?" she asked, pushing her hair dark hair behind her ear.

"Gotta pen?" Dean flashed a smile. He figured Sam would be fine for five minutes while he chatted up this girl. How much trouble could a twelve year old get into in a grocery store picking out snacks? He probably wouldn't even be done when Dean got over there anyway; kid didn't make decisions easily.

Dean walked away from customer service with a phone number and a possible date for Saturday night but when he got to the snack aisle, it was empty. No cart, no Sam, nothing.

"Not funny Sammy," Dean called. "Sam!"

There was no answer, not even the hushed giggle Dean was expecting, nothing. The supermarket wasn't exactly huge, but it was big enough to get lost in, which was exactly why Dean told Sam to stay in that aisle. He felt like he was having a heart attack. He'd lost track of Sam a few times over the years, in stores, he'd wondered off while walking home from school, or whatever, but every time it happened, when Dean couldn't see him, thoughts of the worst possible things flashed through Dean's thoughts. Obviously, Sam had been kidnapped, that was the only logically explanation to what happened to him. Someone stole his little brother.

"Sam!" Dean half yelled, not wanting to cause panic. "I told you to stay here, damn it." Dean checked the next aisle over on either side, no Sam, no abandoned carriage. "No cool, Sammy."

Before he started to freak out too much, Dean made his way back to Missy. He took a deep breath and winked at her.

"You're back," She smiled. "That didn't take long."

"Yeah," Dean smirked. "Um… I lost my brother."

"In the store?" Missy asked.

"Uh…yeah…" Dean nodded slowly, fighting the urge to shake her and ask where the hell else he would have lost Sam. "He was supposed to meet me in the chips, but he's not there and it's… you know… kinda a big store… so."

"You want me to page him to the service desk?" Missy smiled.

"That would be _awesome_," Dean smirked. "His name's Sam."

Dean paced in front of the desk after Missy made her page until Sam came riding up the aisle on the back of the cart toward him.

"What?" Sam said, like he didn't give his brother a heart attack.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean said threw gritted teeth grabbing Sam's arm.

"I was getting snacks," Sam said, trying to rip his arm away from Dean as he nodded to the cart. Inside the carriage there were yogurts and string cheese alongside bags of Funyuns and Cheetos. "You told me to get snacks."

"I told you to wait for me in the snack aisle," Dean twisted Sam's arm with one and hand grabbed the front of the cart with the other and walked down the main aisle of the store. "I thought you got kidnapped or something."

"Over dramatic much," Sam rolled his eyes. "Let go of me."

"You can't just wander off like that," Dean said. "You can't just disappear and do whatever you want. I'm supposed to be watching you."

"While you hit on anyone with boobs?" Sam sighed. "I'm not stupid I saw you and that girl."

"I was applying for a job, actually," Dean replied, nose flaring out. "I left you alone for less than five minutes. You couldn't stay in one spot?"

"I was getting snacks," Sam defended. "Just like you told me too. I didn't know how long you'd be tryin' to look down that girl's top, so I figured I'd get as much done as I could."

"Whatever," Dean shook his head. "Let's just get something for dinner, some frozen pizzas or something."

"Fine," Sam grabbed the cart and pushed it ahead of Dean, jumping on the back and riding it down the aisle.

* * *

Sam was teaching himself Latin that summer out of an old book Bobby had giving him for his birthday. John said it would probably be a very useful skill in the future and Dean should probably learn it too, but Dean had absolutely no interest in learning Latin. A few of the schools he'd been to required Spanish and by the absolute disaster that had been, he didn't want to even think about what having his little brother trying to teach him Latin would be like.

Instead, Dean would lay on his bed the nights that their dad wasn't around, watching Sam read and absorb the old book while half reading The Lord of the Rings books his brother had gotten him from Christmas. He was about a quarter of the way through the third one, which meant it was probably the fastest he'd ever read three books in a row in his life. Part of him wished he like to learn like Sam did, but the same part knew that he'd never need any of the stuff that Sam liked to learn about. He just didn't care about school stuff. All he needed to know he'd learn in the field shoulder to shoulder with his dad. Hopefully, his dad would let him go on bigger more dangerous hunts. That's all he wanted really, to be taken seriously as a hunter.

* * *

They stay in Northern California until the beginning of October then slid across the country spending two weeks in one town, a month in another, never being about to get into a routine. Dean could see it wearing on Sam. As much as he understood why they had to live the way they did, he could also see why Sam had such a hard time with it.

"I know it sucks," Dean whispered into the darkness of a weekend motel room somewhere between Georgia and Wyoming. "I know you're awake, dude, I can heard you sniffling."

"I had a friend," Sam mumbled. "We were going to be best friends."

"I'm sorry," Dean replied. "You know you can't get attached like that."

"But I want to," Sam sighed rolling over to face Dean. "I want to get attached to people. I want to see the same people every day for the rest of my life."

"That sounds really boring, Sammy," Dean yawned.

"No, Dean," Sam answered. "It sounds normal. You think if mom was here we'd be living my nomads?"

"I think we'd be living in Lawrence," Dean answered truthfully. "We'd probably still be in that house, maybe even have a little sister or something."

"A little sister?" Dean could hear Sam rolling his eyes.

"Why not?" Dean shrugged. "It could have happened."

"You want a sister?" Sam asked.

"Not really," Dean replied. "I didn't really want you either, but I didn't get a say in the matter. I tried to trade for a Transformer when you were, like, two months old."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Dean chuckled. "I think it was the only time I saw mom get mad. She was not impressed."

"Why doesn't Dad ever talk about her?" Sam said softly, like John was listening, even though he'd left several hours ago and Dean figured he would be back until way after midnight, smelling of cigarette smoke and stale beer.

"I don't know," Dean said.

"Why don't _you_ ever talk about her?"

"I don't remember much," Dean said. "I mean, I was four. What do you remember from when you were four?"

"Is that when Dad lost my stuffed cow?"

"I think I was in second grade," Dean thought aloud. "You were three or four yeah."

"I remember Cow," Sam said thoughtfully. "We had some good times."

"It was sticky and you used to shove it against my face all the time," Dean scoffed. "And when I tried to wash you would cry so it never got washed. It was just covered with three and half years of snot and food and grossness."

"I think you're just jealous cuz I liked Cow more than you," Sam giggled. "I think you and Dad cooked up an evil plot to forget to pack my most prized possession because you wanted my best friend and not a stuffed animal."

"You caught me," Dean rolled his eyes. "Conspiracy to ruin your little life by taking away your comfort animal so I had to listen to you cry and whine every night for a week about how you couldn't sleep without the stupid thing."

Sam let out an honest laugh. Dean loved it when Sam did that, just laughed like a kid should, he didn't do it near often enough.

"For what it's worth, Sammy," Dean said once the laughter died down. "I wish you had a normal life too. I wish there was something I could do to fix it."

"It's not your job to fix everything," Sam sighed, rolling over to face the wall again, like he was getting ready to sleep. "You're not my parent, Dad is."

Dean lay in the darkness, listening to his brother slowly fall asleep. He knew that it wasn't going to come to him easily, like it never did when their dad wasn't home. He'd probably still be awake when he stumbled in, just pretending, eyes squeezed shut. More often than he liked to think he wondered about normalcy, the kind that Sam was so verbal about wanting. It wasn't that he didn't like the life he had, he loved it, it was just watching Sam struggle, watching his dad struggle with everyday life, hurt. And a normal life, a normal life would fix it all.


	35. Chapter 35

There was a big Poltergeist problem in Amherst Massachusetts; at least that's what John told the boys as they drove east from Indiana. It was probably going to take a while to get rid of it, since John usually had help on these kinds of cases, and right now he only had Sam and Dean. The settled into a little one story house with two bedrooms not too far from the schools the boys would be attending right after Thanksgiving of Dean's junior year.

"We'll be here for a while," Dean said, jumping over the back of the possibly fourth hand sofa Dad had brought home from the Goodwill for thirty bucks. "So, if you can _not_ get beaten up in the first week of school, it would be great. I don't want to have to kill any eighth graders."

"Shut up," Sam said rolling his eyes. "You don't even know the whole story and you get in fights with people all the time."

"Yeah," Dean answered, smirking. "But I always win. You want me to teach you some actual fighting skills?"

"No," Sam huffed. "You've taught me enough."

"They why didn't you just take the kid?" Dean asked.

"Just drop it," Sam sighed. "Before Dad gets home and hears you talking about me getting beat up and makes me go shoot things."

Dean chuckled to himself and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Yeah, alright, Sammy."

Dean grabbed the remote and started to flick through the channels, mostly to see how many they got. Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to his book.

"You're really almost done reading that?" Dean asked. "You started it three days ago."

Sam looked up at his big brother, face painted with the annoyance that only someone interrupted while reading can have. "I can read in the car."

"It took me a year to read those."

"I read faster than you," Sam shrugged and looked back down to his book. "I'd rather read than clean weapons I already cleaned four times just to make sure they're clean."

"Clean weapons are important," Dean said defensively. "You don't need a gun blowing up when you're face to face with something that could eat you."

"It would hurt less when it started to eat you if you were dead," Sam said with a complete lack of humor in his voice.

"That wasn't funny, Sam."

"Wasn't trying to be funny," Sam sighed. "I'm goin' into the room to read. Let me know when Dad comes back with dinner, alright."

"Yeah," Dean nodded as Sam stood up walked sullenly toward the bedroom. "No problem."

* * *

The buzz was already flying around Dean's new high school about prom. It wasn't even Christmas yet, but the girls were ready to explode discussing dress colors and what the theme should be. Dean sat behind a table of these girls at lunch, wishing his dad let him bring one of his hand guns to school so he could shot himself in the head. Their voices were that torturous high pitch squeak that girls made when they got to excited. Don't get him wrong, Dean loved girls, he just didn't love large groups of girls sitting together in one spot.

"You have that 'please kill me now' look on your face," said a body in an unbuttoned plaid shirt with a gray t-shirt underneath standing in front of him.

Dean let his eyes wander upward to see the pretty face and the dishwater blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun.

"Well," Dean nodded. "That's what I'm thinking… so… yeah."

"You're new right?" she asked taking a seat next to him. "I'm Olivia."

"Dean," he nodded.

"Are they talking about prom again?" Olivia inquired, taking a seat next to him.

Dean nodded.

"They've been talking about prom since sixth grade when they learned it was a thing," Olivia explained. "It's only gotten worse as it gets closer. I'm ashamed that I live in a world where four girls who spend most of their days discussing how attractive Leonardo DiCaprio is and debating Backstreet Boys versus NSync get to make choices about my academic life."

"At least they aren't deciding your future," Dean shrugged, talking a long slow drink from his coke can.

"So where are you from?" Olivia asked.

"Originally," Dean said tilting his head to one side. " Kansas."

"What on earth brought you to Mass?" Olivia chuckled.

"Dad needed a change of scenery," Dean shrugged. "Little brother was causing too much trouble at our old school. He's huge trouble maker, my little brother."

"Wonder where he gets it from," Olivia smirked eyeing Dean's well-worn leather jacket that once belonged to his father and ripped jeans with grease stains from working on the Impala running down the leg. Dean turned to look at her, the smirk on his face matching hers.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "Just a bad seed I guess."

The bell rang and everyone around them started to grab at their bags and rushed toward the door. Dean was going to wait until everyone cleared out, he had the excuse of being new and getting lost for being late for class; not that he'd be paying much attention to what was being said anyway.

"Look," Olivia said standing up. "There's a group of us that like to hang out in the park. There's a bon fire and sometimes some beer depending on who's of age sibling is around. You should join us."

"I don't know where the park is," Dean said.

"I can show you," Olivia smiled.

"I gotta bring my brother home," Dean replied. "Make sure he's all good and stuff, feed him, make sure he doesn't go crazy and whatever."

"It's usually later," Olivia shrugged. "If you want, we can meet up at the Pizza joint on Triangle Street say 7:30. If you're not there I'll go without you; if you are then cool beans."

"I don't know where that is either," Dean confessed.

"Other side of the fields, toward the University, you'll see it," Olivia smiled

"Alright," Dean nodded.

"See ya later," Olivia waved and disappeared into the crowd of students.

* * *

"You met a girl, didn't you?" Sam sighed. "That's why you want to ditch me and go hang out with a group of random people you don't know."

"I made a friend," Dean said calmly.

"A friend with boobs?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Sammy" Dean nodded. "She had boobs, calm down."

"And she's really pretty?" Sam said cocking his head to the side. "And popular? And already hopelessly in love with you?"

"No," Dean scoffed. "I mean she's hot, but she's not _in love_ with me, I talked to her for, like, a minute."

Sam shrugged. "Usually our first day at a new school, we hang out together, watch movies, and play cards and stuff. Talk about how lame this school is compared to the last one, since neither of us know anybody."

"We'll do it tomorrow," Dean said. "You're always talking about making friends. I can make friends, too."

"Can I go with you?" Sam asked.

"To a bonfire?" Dean chuckled. "No, Sammy, not 'til you can shave."

"Sam," he huffed a full body sigh. "What do you want me to tell Dad if he calls or comes home?"

"Make something up," Dean answered. "Tell him the truth, I don't care."

"You're not supposed to leave me alone."

"You're thirteen," Dean said seriously. "You're smart enough not to answer the door and to call me if anything weird or bad happens. You can spend a couple hours alone without killing yourself or burning down the house. You have homework, right?"

Sam nodded.

"You can do that!" Dean declared. "Or read an entire book while I'm gone for two hours, whatever floats your boat. When you want to hang out with the friends you make here, I'll make sure you can. How about that?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged.

"I'll get dinner ready," Dean said turning into the kitchen. "We can play cards while it's cooking, I'll take you to the movies over the weekend if Dad's not home. If he comes back, I'll take you the next available weekend. I promise. I'll get you all the movie snacks you want. "

"Okay," Sam replied. "I'll cover for you. But if this girl becomes a regular thing, you have to tell dad, cuz I'm not making a bunch of stuff up like I did for you in Georgia last year."

"I will tell Dad if I make friends," Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't see this getting serious, just some friends."

* * *

It was pretty mild for early December in Massachusetts, the harsh wind that usually comes with winter hadn't shown up yet, no heavy winter jackets or mittens needed as he walked with Olivia to a park in the middle of the city.

Olivia pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket as they walked and offered one to Dean.

"No thanks," Dean shook his head. "I don't… you know… do… that."

"Suit yourself," Olivia shrugged, pulling out one for herself and placing the pack back in her pocket. She pulled out a pink Bic lighter lit up and dropped that back in her pocket as well.

"So who's gonna be there," Dean asked, trying to fill a semi awkward silence.

"Just some guys," Olivia answered. "Like, three people we go to school with, seniors, everyone else either graduated or just don't go to school anymore. You'll fit in. It's not the typical group of high school kids. We're sorta over it, ya now."

"Totally," Dean nodded like he understood what she meant.

"My parents think I'm going to go to UMass and become wicked successful," Olivia continued. "But I just wanna paint and write and make music and live in the moment. I couldn't give two shits about being successful. I'm not gonna become one of those drones that just exists without living."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I totally understand."

"Really?" Olivia turned and started to walk backward so she could walk and look at Dean at the same time.

"I… yeah," Dean said. "A life on the road; that's kinda how my dad and brother and me have been livin' since we lost my mom. Letting to road guide us, take us wherever. It's a nice life."

"That's what I'm _talking _about," Olivia's eyes lit up. "I wanna through a dart at a map and move there and just live, live on music and art. But my parents, they think I have to have a degree and a husband and a family. I think that's all wicked over rated."

Dean wasn't really sure how to take this girl. She seemed really serious about what she was saying, but at the same time sounded slightly insane. He got the sentiment, honestly, the whole letting the wind guide you wherever it wanted. Olivia seemed like a nice girl, pretty, Dean felt like he could really make something happen with her, but if she was crazy… well… he'd have to get away a quickly as possible. He'd done crazy before, and crazy girls got clingy and he didn't need that in his life. He didn't know how long they'd live in this town; he'd have to figure out Olivia's psyche quickly before anything got serious.

* * *

The fire pit was pretty much what Olivia had described, a bunch of kids in their late teens and twenties, drinking and laughing in the woods. There was one guy, whom Olivia introduced as Kevin, playing the guitar and singing a cheesy love ballad Dean had heard countless times on the radio whenever Sam was in charge of the music. The girls seemed _very _into it though. Olivia waved to a couple sitting across from Kevin and sat down next to them, Dean followed suit.

"This is Maggie and her brother Tim," Olivia told him as she opened the cooler between her and Maggie. She had handed Dean a beer bottle. "Please don't tell me you're one of those weirdos that doesn't drink either."

"No," Dean chuckled, taking the beer from her and twisting the cap open. "Not one of those guys, don't worry."

"Good," Olivia smiled. "Tim's a junior at the University; he's responsible for most of the alcohol you'll see here tonight."

"Thanks, man" Dean said, tipping his bottle toward Tim.

"So where'd you find this one, Libby," Maggie giggled giving Dean a once over.

"School cafeteria," Olivia answered. "He was listening to the prom squad at lunch, looked about ready to kill himself, figured I'd save him."

"I like him," Maggie said leaning back.

"I found him first," Olivia teased. "Maybe if you bothered going to school you could have claimed him for yourself."

"I'm right here," Dean said, but neither girl bothered to pay him any attention.

"Don't worry," Tim said leaning forward. "They sometimes forget that other people exist when they start talking to each other. Don't feel bad. They have their own little world."

"Interesting," Dean nodded slowly.

"You get used to it," Tim shrugged. "Eventually they realize other people exist again and include them in conversation."

"Are you making fun of us?" Maggie said, punching her brother in the arm, hard.

"He wasn't," Dean defended. "Just explaining how you two work."

"Don't believe anything he says," Olivia smiled. "He lies wicked bad."

"All the time," Maggie added, laughing. "It's wicked horrible."

Dean nodded, he wasn't really sure if he understood what they'd just said, but he was going to play along. If he was going to live here for a while, it was best to act like he fit in, and so far, out of all the places they'd lived and all the people he'd hung around with, these people seemed to be the most like his kind of people than anyone else.

Tim dug into his pockets and pulled out a plastic bag.

"I'm gonna have smoke, you guys wanna join?" Tim asked searching each of their faces as the spoke.

"Of course we do," Maggie said, looping her arm around Olivia's.

"You in Dean?" Olivia asked winking at him.

"I don't smoke," Dean said, pressing his eyebrows together in confusion, because he had told her literally a half hour ago that he didn't smoke.

Maggie and Olivia giggled.

"Suit yourself," Maggie said. "More for us."

Dean watched the girls and Tim pass what Dean figured to be a hand rolled cigarette back and forth between each other; inhaling deeply and coughing before passing it on in their little circle.

"You sure?" Tim asked holding it out to Dean. "It's good stuff, well, good stuff for here anyway."

"I don't… I've never…" Dean stammered.

"Just gotta inhale, hold it in, and breathe out slow," Tim said. "Try not to cough too much."

Dean did as he was instructed, but as soon as the smoke hit his lungs he couldn't help but cough like someone was choking him.

"That was seriously your first time wasn't it?" Maggie giggled.

"Leave him alone, Mags," Olivia said elbowing Maggie in the ribs. "Don't take so much in next time. It leads to a much better high. The coughing sorta ruins it."

Dean nodded and waited for his turn to come again, easier time as he slowly exhaled and watched the smoke dissipate into the trees.

"That's really, _really, _cool looking," Dean said.

"You've had two hit and you're high?" Maggie said rolling her eyes harder than Dean had ever seen anyone roll them.

"Virgin," Tim said, just loud enough for Dean to hear. "You ate, like, a whole frickin cake the first time I let you into my stash."

Dean listened at Tim explained how he was a Political Science major who wanted to somehow make a difference in the world and Maggie made fun of him. Maggie wanted to move to Paris and become a street artist. She'd all but dropped out of school.

"I'm just over the whole oppression of creativity," Maggie explained. "They'd rather I get a 1600 on my SATs than paint the next Starry Night. It's all just bullshit."

"Totally," Dean nodded. He felt light headed, but a good light headed, kind of like he was floating. Tim explained that this feeling was a good one.

"What do you wanna do?" Maggie asked.

"I wanna work with my dad," Dean said. "Or you, know, be a fire fighter I haven't really decided."

"That's wicked lame," Maggie rolled her eyes. "Where did you find him Libby?"

"No, shut up," Dean said. "My dad's really good at his job. He, like, saves people and shit. I wanna be like that."

"What does he do?" Olivia and Maggie asked in unison.

"I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you," Dean winked. "It's sorta a family secret. I'm not supposed talk about it."

"Like a spy?" Maggie said leaning over Olivia toward Dean.

"That's what I used to tell my brother when he was really little," Dean smirked. "Easier to explain."

"Why a fire fighter," Tim asked bringing this beer bottle to his lips. "I gave up that wish when I was, like, six."

Dean watched the dirt move as he kicked at it.

"Umm…" he started. "When I was a kid there was a fire, and my mom, and I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Sorry," Olivia said pressing her head against his shoulder.

"It's cool," Dean shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I just, you know, wanna honor her, and stuff."

"I take it back, Libby," Maggie said. "He's mysterious and sexy and sweet, not boring and lame at all."

"Thanks," Dean laughed.

* * *

The four ended up sharing two joints and a twelve pack by midnight, when Dean decided it was best if he got home so he could check on his brother.

"I'll give you a ride," Tim said, packing up the cooler. "Things are dying down around her anyway."

"Is that a good idea?" Dean asked, knowing that Tim had more to drink and definitely smoked more that he did.

"I'm good," Tim said. "I do it all the time. We're to do you live?"

"On the street next to the high school," Dean said. "Like right around the corner."

"Cool beans," Tim said, standing up. "Mags grab the cooler we're dropping Dean off on the way home."

* * *

The Impala in the driveway nearly gave Dean a heart attack. He slowly got out of Tim's trunk and walked up the driveway, trying his best to be quiet as he unlocked the door and snuck through the kitchen.

"Sam told me where you went," John's sleepy voice said from the couch. "If you stay out this late again, whether I'm home or not, you're grounded, which means no hunting. Understand me?"

"Yes sir," Dean said quickly. "How'd the recon go?"

"Gotta pretty good handle on what we're looking at," John said sitting up and turning to look over the couch. "Really wish I had another experienced hand with me, but whatcha gonna do?" John shrugged, and then looked directly at Dean. "Are you fucking high? You reek."

"I am not high," Dean shook his head, trying to keep his eyes wide open because he remembered how Tim's eye lids were droopy. "Definitely not high. No drugs."

"You're a moron," John sighed. "I don't like these kids you're hanging out with. Find new friends."

"I like these friends," Dean smiled to himself. "And you don't even know them. You haven't met them."

"That shit fries your brain cells," John said seriously. "And I don't want it in my house. I don't need Sammy exposed to that kind of shit. You understand me?"

"I understand," Dean nodded.

"Go to bed, you have school in the morning," John sighed, laying back down. "Don't wake up your brother."

Dean nodded and walked to his bedroom. He was going to fit in here. He felt like he could be himself around this group of kids. He didn't have to be someone else because they were expecting the badass or the punk, he didn't have to fake it. He liked that idea. Hopefully the poltergeist thing took longer than their dad figured it would. He wanted to stay in town for a while, and that was feel ing he hadn't had since they lived in Mississippi when he was twelve. It was nice, unfamiliar. He could get used to it.

* * *

_AN: Okay, so I got _big plans_ for the next couple chapters. I've been waiting to write this part pretty much since I started writing this story in October. I hope you guys will like it._


	36. Chapter 36

John spent most of his time away, this wasn't a new thing really, he'd spent most of the boy's lives away, but Dean sorta figured that with the hunt so close to home he'd be around a bit more. Dean spent half of his time trying to figure out how to get rid of a poltergeist and the other half split between keeping Sam happy and hanging out with his new friends. He'd picked up a job working at little job working two days a week a body shop owned by the brother of his auto shop teacher. He was getting extra class credit for working there, which was incredible considering his academic record. With those few extra credits he might even have chance of graduating on time.

Sam had met a couple kids; straight up dorks if Dean had ever seen them. They'd convinced Sam to join the debate club after school, which took up quite a bit of Sam's time. Dean thought it was good for the kid, he didn't seem so sulky and annoying when he had something to occupy his time.

Things with Olivia were progressing nicely by the middle of January. She didn't like putting labels on things, but they skipped class to make out in closets enough to be considered an item. They didn't see Maggie all that much, she was pretty much over the whole high school thing, Dean didn't really mind though; he liked having alone time with Olivia.

"This is going to sound super lame," Dean said as he sat next to Olivia in the crowded cafeteria. "But Sammy got this big debate tonight, and I promised him I'd go watch, and I know that I said I'd take ya to the movies tonight, but Sam's thing."

"Go to the debate," Olivia said kissing his cheek. "The movie will still be there later. Sammy's debate is only once."

"He doesn't like it when other people call him 'Sammy,'" Dean said. "I was wondering if you wanted to come with. I mean I know a middle school debate is probably the most boring thing ever, but it'll be less boring with you there."

"As far as date ideas go," Olivia smirked. "This is, like, the worst one of all time."

"I know," Dean sighed. "But Sammy, and I promised, and he wants to meet you. This is the perfect opportunity."

"I'd like to meet your little brother, too," Olivia said. "But this doesn't get you out of taking me to the movies."

"I'll sit through two hours of whatever chick flick you need to see if you sit through this nerdfest."

"Deal," Olivia smiled.

* * *

Sam won his part of the debate, totally blew the other kid out of the water with some argument about how peer pressure effects education. Dean found out very quickly that applauding and screaming wasn't acceptable at a debate. The teacher in charge _almost_ kicked him out, but Dean was able to control himself. Sam was grinning ear to ear afterward when he met Dean in the lobby.

"Nice job kiddo," Dean said ruffling Sam's hair.

"You think so?" Sam smiled. "Crystal said that I probably should have more examples but Hank said that it was fine."

"I think you smoked the other kid," Dean nodded. "Made him look like he had no idea what he was talking about. Didn't you hear me cheering?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "Mr. McCarthy was about ready to kill you."

"You're really good at this stuff kiddo," Dean grinned.

"Mr. McCarthy said that I have a real gift for arguing. That's why he recruited me for the team."

"You didn't need a teacher to tell ya that, kid," Dean chuckled. "You've been getting your way for years."

"Yeah, but I'm the youngest," Sam smiled. "You're supposed to just give me what I want. That's how it works."

"Haha," Dean rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I want ya to meet someone."

"Hi," Olivia waved. "Great job up there, Sammy."

Sam looked up at Dean through his hair, look of pure annoyance on his face. "Is this your girlfriend?"

"This is my _friend_ Olivia," Dean nodded.

"You tell her my name is Sam," he said seriously.

"He did," Olivia interjected. "I forgot."

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, ignoring her completely. "Are we going out for dinner? Or is Dad back?"

"He'd be here if he was home," Dean answered. "You wanna hit up the pizza place or a diner?"

"I could really go for a chicken finger sub," Sam said.

"Well, pizza place it is," Dean smiled, placing a hand on Sam's back. He gestured for Olivia to walk in front of them. "Lead the way M'lady."

Olivia giggled and they watched to her car.

"Be nice," Dean hissed as walked. "I like her and things are going really well. I'm sorry she called you the wrong thing, but don't be a bitch just to be a bitch. She's a nice girl."

"Since when have you ever dated a _nice girl_," Sam sighed.

"I'm going to make fun of every little nerd you bring home from now to the day you die if you're not nice to Olivia during dinner," Dean said seriously. "I'm not joking. I'll bust out pictures of you as a baby when they first met me. I'll do all that stupid shit that you see sitcom parents do to embarrass their kids. I'm not kidding."

"Fine," Sam sighed.

"Just be civil," Dean said when they reached the car. "You don't have to over-do it, just don't be an asshole."

* * *

At the pizzeria, Olivia seemed to talk endlessly about her and Dean's big plans for his birthday the following weekend. The more she talked the more Sam appeared to become increasingly upset.

"On Dean's birthday we always spend the day together," Sam said when Olivia finally stopped for air. "We've always hung out together on each other's birthdays and watch movies and do stuff together."

"Yeah, but you only turn eighteen once," Olivia smiled turning to Dean a clinging to his arm. "It's gonna be wicked exciting. You can have him all day, but after dinner Maggie and I are talking him out. It's gonna be great."

"It's a Friday I have school all day," Sam said.

"You don't have plans with your friends or nothing, Sammy?" Olivia asked.

"It's Sam," he corrected angrily. "And no, I don't have _other plans_."

Dean kicked him in the shin under that table.

"It'll be fine Sam," Dean said quickly. "We'll hang out later."

"Whatever," Sam sighed as the waitress, a girl that Dean recognized from hanging out in the park delivered their food.

"Anyways," Olivia continued. "Maggie thinks she can get us into a place on campus with Tim's help. It should be pretty awesome since it'll be the first weekend back at school after winter break and stuff."

"You know I'm kinda short on cash," Dean said, never talking his eyes off Sam who just looked more and more heart broken the more Olivia talked. "Not exactly raking in the dough working at the shop. I can't really afford to do anything too extravagant."

"Oh don't worry about that," Olivia smiled. "Maggie and I'll treat ya. It's your birthday! It's gonna be so awesome."

"Alright," Dean nodded stuffing one end of his sandwich into his mouth.

"You have any big plans for this weekend Sammy?" Olivia asked stealing a fry from Dean's plate, a move that would get Sam's own hand stabbed with a fork.

"My name is Sam," he was clearly losing patience with this girl. "And no, I'm just gonna do some research."

"For a project?" Olivia asked.

"For my dad," Sam said looking at Dean. "Something for work. I'm better at it that he is so he lets me help sometimes. Dean's supposed to be helping too, but apparently he's too busy."

"Knock it off, Sam," Dean warned through a mouth full of food.

"I'm going to my grandma's in Worcester, tomorrow." Olivia said. "You guys can have the whole weekend together."

"Glad to have your permission," Sam mumbled, looking down at his plate.

Dean could tell his little brother was upset that he had found someone else to spend all his time with, he always got like this when Dean had a girlfriend or friends and didn't spend all this time around Sam. It wasn't like Sam couldn't make friends; he always managed to have one or two little dweebs hanging around the house or something. No matter how often John moved them or how short their stay was in a particular town, the whole ride to the next one was usually filled with Sam complaining about losing new friends.

* * *

When they got back to the house, Sam jumped out of Olivia's car, ran out up the walkway, and slammed the front door, hard. Dean rolled his eyes as he walked hand in hand with his girl toward the door.

"I don't think he likes me," Olivia said sadly. "I really wanted him to like me."

"Sam doesn't like anyone," Dean said. "He's thirteen, moody, you'll grow on him. He's, you know, an eighth grader."

"Yeah," Olivia shrugged, pulling at his jacket until he bent down for a kiss. "Just the way that you talk about Sammy, I really wanted him to like me. Hey, I know that this weekend is a you and Sammy weekend, but my parents have this big Sunday dinner, and my mom really wants to meet you."

"Uh-huh," Dean said pulling away, turning slightly so his back was against the door and searching for the doorknob.

"So maybe you and Sammy can stop by?" Olivia smiled. "If you want to, no pressure, just if you want, that would be cool."

"Maybe," Dean said pecking her on the lips one last time before opening the door and stepping inside. "I'll call you later."

"Okay!" Olivia smiled, then turned and half skipped back to her car.

Dean jumped over the back of the couch and landed next to his sullen and mopey baby brother.

"I thought you were spending the day with Princess Doesn't Listen Worth a Shit, before she took off to wherever." Sam sighed.

"Nope," Dean smiled, tossing an arm around Sam's shoulders. "I got the whole weekend to annoy you."

"Awesome," Sam rolled his eyes.

"What's your problem?" Dean spat turning to look Sam in the eye. "Cut the whiny baby crap, it's annoying."

"I don't have a problem," Sam said crossing his arms over his chest.

"Clearly, Sammy, ya do," Dean said, raising his voice slightly. "Because you're being a baby. So pull the fucking stick out of your ass and grow up."

"My name is _Sam,_" his brother growled. "SAM! I don't know where this _girlfriend_ who's probably not even going to be around next week gets off calling me Sammy after I corrected her _three_ times, but it's annoying. I'm not a baby anymore. So just leave me alone."

"First off dickface," Dean said. "I like her and she'll still be around next week. And she was just trying to get _you_ to like _her_, because she knows how important you are to _me_."

"Fuck off Dean," Sam said standing up. "She was being a patronizing bitch."

"Watch your fucking mouth, asshole," Dean spat back.

"I get you refusing to listen to me," Sam yelled. "You never listen to anyone except Dad, but her, she has no reason not to listen when I asked not to be called something. She's just being a bitch for no reason."

"No she wasn't," Dean defended. "She was trying to get you to like her."

"Well she did a horrible fucking job," Sam shouted, face turning red. "I hope the two of you have wonderful time on your birthday together, since apparently you don't give a shit about tradition, even if it's the only tradition we have in this stupid family."

"This is what you're pissed about?" Dean questioned. "That I don't wanna spend every waking moment with you? I'm spending this whole weekend with you. I spend 98 percent of my free time with you! I'm sorry that my friends wanna spend time with me too. That's the whole _point_ of having friends. And since 'being normal' and having real friends is the only thing you ever freakin' talk about, I figured you'd be find with it. And you're right Sam; you're not a baby anymore, which is exactly why I figured you'd have better things to do with your weekend than spend it up my ass. It's my birthday anyway I can do what the fuck I want to."

"Believe it or not," Sam mocked standing up. "You're not most important person to walk the face of the earth." He turned on his heal and stalked to their room, slamming the door hard.

"Fucking little freak," Dean breathed. He got up and went through is back pack finding the little zip lock baggie Tim had given him last time they all hung out. If Sam was going to be a dickhead, Dean was going to make it so that nothing the kid did bother him. He left the front pocket of his bag open when he went out back to light up.

* * *

When Dean came back inside, John was sitting the couch watching TV.

"Where's Sammy?" John asked.

"_Samuel,_" Dean answered walking into the kitchen to grab a bag of chips and some water. "As he apparently wants to be called, has locked himself in our room because Olivia called him 'Sammy' when we took him out for dinner after his debate. How's the case coming?"

"A little more research to do," John sided. "Gotta figure out if it's an actual poltergeist or a straight up haunting. It's a weird case, buddy."

"You want some help?" Dean asked collapsing into the chair.

"Not right now," John said, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "Where were you?"

"Just talking a walk," Dean lied. "Had to get away from the walking mass of angst, you know?"

"Wanna explain this, then?" John tossed the plastic bag Dean thought he had hidden well enough in his back pack onto the table next to his feet.

"Not mine," Dean shook his head.

"Really," John said sarcastically. "Cuz it was on the floor next to your book bag."

"It's not mine," Dean repeated trying his best to hide the "oh shit" look he knew was plastered all over his face. "It's… it's Tim's. I'm just… I'm just holding it for him. He left it at Olivia's last time we were there."

"You're a horrible liar in the best conditions," John sighed. "But when you're high, you're even worse."

"I'm not," Dean huffed.

"Look me in the face with your blood shot eyes and try again," John said. "I wasn't born yesterday. I don't want this shit around your brother. And I don't appreciate it my house at all. What you and your friends do when you're out, whatever, but I'm really sick of watching you walk into this house stoned at all hours of the night, and apparently the day too. Drinking… drinking I can deal with, but drugs, Dean. How stupid can you be?"

"I'm not stupid," Dean defended.

"Knock this shit off," John said. "You do this crap around your brother?"

Dean shook his head. "Just out with my friends."

"You're better than this," John said seriously. "A lot better. Your brother looks up to you. You gotta stop doing stupid shit, cuz he's gonna walk right in footsteps your leaving behind ya. You want that? You want you kid brother to end up some pot head?"

"No," Dean mumbled.

"What?" John said sternly.

"No sir," Dean said a little louder. "I don't want that for him. He's got more going for him than that."

"Right," John said. "Smarten up. Get new friends. How much money are you wasting on this shit?" John asked.

"I dunno," Dean said softly, staring at his feet.

"You don't know?" John repeated. "You don't know how much money that you're supposed to be using to buy food to feed your brother you're spending on drugs? If I went had to go off on a hunt for two weeks, would you be able to keep food in the fridge, or would if all get smoked?"

"I… I can… I can make sure Sam gets fed," Dean said. "I can do that. I'm not an idiot."

"Really?" John said. "Because you don't see very responsible to me. You're 18th birthday is next week, you're gonna be an adult."

"I know," Dean mumbled.

"You wanna know what I was gonna do?"

Dean looked up from the floor and toward his father.

"I was gonna buy a truck," John said. "I don't really need that boat of a car anymore that you boys are grown."

"You're gonna get rid of the Chevy!?" Dean interrupted eyes wide. "You can't just do that!"

"No," John sighed. "I was gonna hand you the keys. But since I can't trust you, I think I'm gonna wait, until you can get your act together. You're gonna hafta earn it now. I see this crap," John tapped the bag with is foot. "In my house, or you walk through that door stoned another time, you're never gonna drive that car again. You understand me? I'm not letting an immature idiot drive that car. Pull your head out of your ass and figure out what people you should hanging out with and who you should have around your brother."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded.

"Go to your room," John said "We'll talk more in the morning."

Dean nodded as he stood up and went into his room. He didn't even look at Sam as he dropped onto his bed. He wasn't really sure what he wanted to do. He knew he didn't to stop hanging out with Olivia, Tim, and Maggie, he liked hanging out with them. They were his people. His dad wasn't really around enough to pick and choose his friends for him. He didn't know what that group was like, they were good kids. He really like Olivia, he was careful about falling for anyone, but he knew that if they stayed here he'd be with her for a while. She wasn't the other girls that he thought of as just something to pass the time; he wanted to invest time with this girl. He wasn't going to just _stop_ being friends with her.

He wanted that car. He wanted that car more than anything in the world. He knew that being in this town wouldn't last long; this part of his life would be over before he got to settle into a routine and life here. He'd change to fit into the next town. Here he was doing what he had to do to fit in. It was too late in the game to change.


	37. Chapter 37

"Ta-Da!" Olivia smiled dropping a white envelope in front of Dean as she and Maggie sat down at the lunch table. It was unusual to see Maggie at school at all, let alone on a Friday.

"Open it!" Maggie said.

"I told you not to get me anything for my birthday," Dean shook his head, pushing the envelope back across the table.

"Just open it," Maggie sighed. "You'll like it."

"I didn't even cost that much, and you'll be able to use it for a while," Olivia said.

Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed the envelope back and opened it.

"Tim has a friend that makes them," Maggie said. "All he needs is a picture and forty bucks."

Dean twirled the driver's license of a Marcus Reynolds, who looked exactly like him, in his fingers. Everything was the same, height, weight, eye color, except today was Marcus's twenty second birthday.

"You got me a fake id?" Dean looked between the girls suspiciously, maybe his dad was right about people he choose to be around.

"Yeah," Olivia said placing her head on Dean's shoulder. "Now we don't gotta worry about getting into the campus clubs tonight."

"Tim's friend said the New Hampshire ones are wicked easy to make," Maggie said. "That's the one I have, no one questions it."

"Happy birthday, babe," Olivia said leaning in and kissing Dean on the cheek. "I'll pick you up tonight around eight?"

"My dad's supposed to be taking us out for dinner," Dean shrugged. "If Sam doesn't throw a complete fit, so eight's good."

"Excellent," Maggie smiled jumping up. "I'm getting out of here before someone sees me and I have to go to class."

"I have another present for you too," Olivia breathed into his ear. "But it's gonna have to wait til later."

"Really now," Dean smiled turning toward her.

She winked as she stood up than ran after Maggie out of the cafeteria and outside.

* * *

Sam was already home when Dean got there, since the middle school was on the other side of town, he took the bus, whereas Dean just walked the half a block home for the high school. He was trying to do his homework at the kitchen table while John yelled at him.

"Why couldn't you just do what I asked you to do?" John yelled.

"I'm doing my homework!" Sam screamed back. "The dishes will still be there in twenty minutes when I'm done. I wanna get this done while it's fresh in my mind."

"I asked you to wash the dishes before you left for school _yesterday_," John growled.

"And yesterday I was finishing a paper for my history class that was worth half my grade this quarter," Sam shot back. "I'll do them when I get to it."

Fights like this were getting more and more frequent when their dad was around. John had never put much into the boys school work, didn't really care, but Dean had always told Sam he needed to do well in school. Even when they were in elementary school Dean pushed it into his brother's head that school work came before anything else, even if Dean took the same apathetic approach to it that John did. Dean always felt like he had a built in excuse for not doing his work with his learning disability, but his brother was smart enough for the both of them. Sam could go somewhere, do good somewhere. He didn't have to be stuck in this life. Dean wanted the world for his little brother, and he knew somewhere their dad did too, but right now all John saw was a dirty house he'd asked nicely the first three times go get cleaned and teenage boy who just won't listen.

"I don't ask much of you, Sam," John continued. "All I wanted was for you to take five fucking minutes out of your life to wash the dishes. Is that really too much for you? You know how much your brother does? He does _everything_ I ask him to do, no questions asked. He takes care of everything when I'm working and you can't be bothered to do one fucking thing?"

"I'm not Dean," Sam replied. "I'm actually trying to do something with my life."

"You're fucking thirteen years old," John said. "Just do what I tell you to do."

"I'm doing my _fucking _homework," Sam said, teeth tightly clenched.

"Talk like that to me again and you'll be seeing the backside of my hand," John told him. "As long as you live under my roof, you'll do what I tell you to do, and you'll learn some fucking respect while you're at it."

"Maybe I don't wanna live under whatever roof you decide is good enough for your children this week," Sam said. "Maybe I've had enough of moving around like a freakin' nomad and living out of car most of the time. Maybe I want a room where I don't have to listen to my brother snore and talk in his sleep all night. Maybe I want to have some privacy once and a while. All I really want to do is get good grades so I can get into a good college and get the hell away from you."

"Keep acting tough big man," John said closing the space between himself and Sam.

Dean slammed the front door loudly before it something truly horrific happened.

"What's going on?" Dean asked dropping his book bag in the chair between his dad and brother.

"Nothing," Sam said shaking his head, but keeping his eyes down on his textbook.

"Didn't sound like nothing from outside," Dean said.

"It's fine," Sam mumbled. "Just a day in life."

"Knock it off Sammy," John hissed.

"My name is Sam," he yelled slamming his book. "I'm only asking for one thing. I don't want to be babied. Just stop calling me that like I'm a little kid. I'm thirteen."

"Then act like it," John replied. He then walked to the fridge grabbed a beer bottle and sat down in front of the TV.

"And happy birthday to me," Dean mumbled as he picked up his bag and followed Sam into their room.

"You alright?" Dean asked going through his back pack to find the copy of the Vonnegut book he checked out of the library. He might not be much for school work, but these books, as much as he still hated the girl that introduced him to them, he couldn't keep himself away from them.

"I've been better," Sam said. "I just don't get why he has to be like that all the time. I didn't do anything and he just… flipped out."

"You know how he gets," Dean said finding the page he left off on. "It only would have taken, like, two minutes to wash those dishes, you know that right?"

"You're on his side?" Sam laughed. "Of course you are, Mr. Perfect."

"I'm not on anyone's side, okay, Sammy… Sam," Dean replied. "I just don't like listen to Dad screaming at you, especially when it's completely avoidable."

"You're just pissed because now we don't get to go out to dinner and you don't get pie," Sam huffed.

"I don't know who shoved that stick up your ass," Dean said. "But please pull it out before I kill you. It's a little early for all the teenage bullshit you're pulling and if I gotta deal with this for five more years, you're not going to live that long."

"Whatever," Sam sighed.

"What are you so _mad_ about?" Dean asked.

Sam huffed and made eye contact through the hair Dean had day dreams about hacking off while the boy slept.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged.

"Is it a kid at school?" Dean pushed. "A teacher? Dad? Me? The moving around? Give me something, kid and I'll try to fix it."

"It's not your place to fix it," Sam said. "You're not my mom as much as you try to act like it. You're my brother you don't gotta fix anything."

"I'm your _brother_," Dean said. "It's my _job_ to fix everything."

"No, Dean," Sam sighed. "It's not. Your job is supposed to be to pick on me and make me eat gross things and embarrass me in front of my friends. You're not supposed to teach me to walk and tie my shoes and make sure I have enough to eat. You're not supposed to the only one that shows up to my games. You're not supposed to be the only one that cares that I did well on a test. You're supposed to be out doing high school things with your friends and not care about what the eighth grader is doing. You're not supposed to be keeping tabs on me. That's a parent's job. You aren't my parent."

"That's what you're so pissed off about?" Dean asked. "I'm not doing a good enough job?"

"No," Sam sighed. "You're fine. You're awesome, Dad's the problem. He just doesn't _care_. I want him care. Why is that so hard for him to understand? He doesn't even know I'm on the debate team. He doesn't know I'm on the honor roll. I'm not saying I want him to stick a bumper sticker on the car or nothing, but you know it wouldn't suck to get an 'Atta boy' and slap on the back from him once and a while."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "I get it. I'll have a talk with him."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Dean didn't know how to please the kid. He just wanted everything to be calm and nice and he couldn't fix it without talking to his dad. Dean knew he was going to end up being the mediator for his brother and dad for a long time, another hat he'd have to wear that he shouldn't have to.

* * *

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" John slurred as Dean put on his jacket on his way out the door. Olivia had called him and said to meet him out front.

"I'm hungry," Dean shrugged. "And since we were supposed to go out for my birthday, but didn't I'm going out with my friends."

"The friends I forbid you from hanging out with?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "The new friends I've never once mentioned." He rolled his eyes and walked out the door.

Olivia was waiting for him at the end of the driveway, Maggie was sitting shotgun so Dean hopped in the back and they took off. Both girls were up in short black sparkly dresses and heels. Maggie's auburn hair was done up in a stunning up do, Olivia's seemed to shine as it fell past her shoulders. Dean felt very under dressed compared to the girls.

"I… I… uh… I didn't know that this was a black tie affair," Dean said, leaning between the front seats.

"It's not," Olivia answered. "You look fine. Nobody's going to be looking at you."

"Oh, well then," Dean sat back.

"Tim wants us to crash at his apartment," Maggie said. "His roommate outta town, so he's gotta extra bedroom tonight."

"Good," Olivia smiled.

In the back, Dean smirked to himself. Maybe it would end up being a good birthday after all.

The club was packed with college kids and kids that Dean had seen wandering the halls of the high school. Dean wasn't big on dancing, or what passed at dancing in clubs, but he loved watching Olivia and Maggie out there having the time of their lives while Dean leaned against the wall or the bar. The girls got drunk pretty quickly off their bright blue whatever they were drinking. Dean sipped his beer slowly, he wasn't wasted, but he wasn't sober either.

Olivia pressed herself against Dean, trying to get him to come out on the dance floor.

"I want you to have fun," Olivia slurred into his ear. "Come have fun with me."

"I'm having fun right here," Dean replied. "I told you I don't dance."

"Come on," Olivia pleaded rubbing a hand down Dean's chest. "It'll be fun."

Dean finally gave in as Olivia stuck her tongue in his ear. He gave into the too loud crappy music pumped through the room while Olivia laughed. He ended up sandwiched between the two girls for a song or two, which he definitely wasn't complaining about.

* * *

When they left around one in the morning, Olivia pulled him to the spare bedroom in Tim's apartment. His room was covered with Green Day and Pearl Jam posters, it smelled like dirty socks and boy, a smell that Dean and Sam's room somehow never managed to acquire.

"I wanna give you your present," Olivia smiled as she started to unzip her dress.

"You already gave me the id," Dean said, as he kissed her.

"No," Olivia said. "I have something else."

She pulled him to the bed and started to play with Dean's shirt until he pulled it over his head. Olivia and Dean made out _a lot_ but they never got very far. There was always someone else around, or they were in public. As much as Dean liked sex, he wasn't really into getting naked in a janitor's closet or in the middle of a public park. Maybe when he got the Impala he could work on his exhibitionism, but right now, he was into closed doors and beds.

"You know," Olivia said as she tried to take off her shoes with Dean pretty much on top of her. "I've never done it before."

"Really?" Dean smirked as he ran his hand over her breasts.

"Nope," Olivia grinned. "I used to think that high school boys were too immature, not worth my time, let alone my body, but you… I want you."

"I can't," Dean shook his head.

Olivia's hand wandered over his jeans, popping the button. "Oh, I think you can."

"No… I… uh… I don't _have_ anything," Dean clarified.

"I'd hope not," Olivia giggled. "You're eighteen, how much sex could you have possibly had?"

"No, not like that," Dean corrected, Olivia looked up at him quizzically. "Well, yeah, like that, too, but since we don't… haven't, you know… done this, I didn't bring anything."

"It's okay," Olivia said into his ear. "Maggie said that you can't get pregnant the first time."

"You're, sure," Dean said pressing kisses along her breast bone.

"Yeah," Olivia assured him. "One hundred percent."

"Okay," Dean nodded.

"I love you," Olivia said as she got a hand into his pants.

He knew it was a bad idea, he'd heard countless times from his dad he was supposed to wrap it before sticking it in anything, but he couldn't pass this up. He didn't _love_ Olivia, he _liked_ her, enjoyed being around her, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

* * *

In the morning, he met Sam for breakfast at the diner they were supposed to have dinner at the night before. It was the compromise they'd come to for Dean ditching the kid and the family tradition. He didn't like leaving Olivia, but he also didn't want to play "hold my hair while I puke" for lord knew how long while she got over her hangover.

"Sorry I ruined your birthday," Sam said as they waited for their pancakes to be delivered. "It's just… just Dad pisses me off so much, you know? And he has all these double standards and he wants me to be an adult but he keeps treating me like I'm a baby."

"Welcome to being a teenager," Dean chuckled. "But if you just do what he says and stay out of the way, eventually he'll get the hint and start treating you like you want to be treated. You gotta earn his respect; otherwise you'll always be a little kid to him."

"That's stupid," Sam sighed.

"You'll understand when you're parent," Dean nodded.

"You're not a parent," Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean shrugged as their waitress brought over their short stacks and bacon.

"The big deal with Dad, though," Dean said with his mouth full. "Is that you gotta think three steps ahead of him. You know that he doesn't give a shit about schoolwork; if he did he woulda left us at Bobby's a long time ago so we could get a real education. What he does care about is the job, family, and orders. Since he doesn't think you're old enough or big enough to do the job, he wants you to follow orders. And right now all he sees is a bratty kid that can't listen."

Sam shook his head as he dropped his fork onto the table, he went to speak but Dean stopped him.

"Just listen for a sec," Dean said, holding his hand up. "I get that you wanna do good in school. I expect you to do good in school. Dad wants you to do what he says. So just suck it up and do what he tells you do to. It really would have taken, what, five minutes to wash the dishes yesterday. He didn't care if they got put away or dried or nothing, he just wanted clean dishes. Your homework was gonna be there five minutes later. He wasn't asking you to run PT drills before you did your homework, he was asking for you to do chores."

"But he freaks out about _everything_,Dean," Sam sighed.

"He wants more from you," Dean answered. "He knows what you're capable of."

Dean watched his little brother eat his pancakes; he wanted nothing more than to take the obvious pain in the kid's eyes away. He knew how he felt, if anyone understood how Sam felt he did. He wanted to fix it, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe if he talked to his dad about lightening up on the kid. It wasn't likely, but it was worth a shot. He didn't know how to get through to Sam. His brother was just as thick headed and stubborn as their dad, compromise wasn't something either did easily, but if the three of them were going to live under one roof, someone was going to have to cave.


	38. Chapter 38

The Wednesday before February break, John stumbled into the house around two in the morning, screaming that he needed help. Dean, who was asleep in front of the television, jumped to attention.

His father was limping and had a very large slash on his face. His shirt was ripped open across his chest.

"What happened?" Sam said sleepily.

"Got get the first aid kit out of the bathroom and put some warm water on a towel," Dean instructed dragging his dad to the couch. "What happened?"

"Thought I had it," John wheezed. "But there's more than one thing in that building."

Sam pressed the towel to John's face and handed Dean the first aid kit. The cut on his face wasn't very deep, but the one on his chest was going to need stitches. Dean did his best to clean it before asking his Dad what he should do.

"You know how to stitch a wound," John said bringing his head down Dean's face. "I know Bobby taught ya."

"On _oranges_," Dean replied. "Oranges aren't people."

"You can do it," John nodded. "I know you can."

"I don't think…" Dean panicked, his hands shaking. "We should take you to a –"

"I can," Sam interrupted clearing his throat. "I can do it. Uncle Bobby says I'm way better at it. I can do it."

"Sammy," John groaned.

"Dad," Sam said seriously taking the first aid kit from Dean and rummaging through to find the peroxide and sterile pads. "I can do it." Sam turned to Dean. "I need floss. There isn't any in the kit."

Dean nodded, unable to take his eyes off the bloody mess that was his father's chest.

"Dean!" Sam yelled smacking him in the chest. "Floss, from the bathroom. I can't use regular string it'll get infected."

Dean stood up retrieved the floss from the sink and came back; watched Sam pull pieces of glass out of it with tweezers ,cleaning the wound.

"Hold still," Sam said, pressing the heel of his palm against his father's chest. "I almost got it all. If I don't get the glass out it will get infected. Then you'll _have_ to go to the hospital and try to explain why your chest is held together with dental floss."

John groaned as Dean helped Sam ready the rest of the supplies.

"Tell Dean what happened," Sam said as he readied the needle and floss.

"I thought…" John said between heavy gasps. "I thought it was just some vengeful spirits. The more I looked into the building the more it seemed like just a pissed off ghost."

Sam stabbed the needle into his father's skin.

"Son of a bitch, Sam," John groaned.

"But it wasn't a spirit?" Dean said doing everything he could to distract his father.

John shook his head. "There have been three suicides in that building," John wheezed. "All hung from the fourth floor railing on the west stairs. I got rid of the ghost spirits, they're resting now. But there's something mean in that building, and it ain't nobody that died there."

"Alright," Dean nodded, doing a horrible job hiding the panic he was feeling. "Then what is it? A poltergeist? I thought we knew that already."

"I haven't gotten rid of one without back up before," John grunted.

"I'm almost done," Sam said. "Two maybe three more."

"You have back up, you got me," Dean said. "I can help you with this. You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Over your school break," John let out a long slow breath. "We'll take care of it over your school break."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "We can do that."

"Done!" Sam said wiping his hands off on the towel. "Just don't move around too much, okay?"

"Thanks, Sam," John said looking at the new thin line running from his should toward the center of his chest. "Good job."

Sam's lips twitched into a little half smile as looked at Dean before quickly looking away.

"Just don't move for a couple hours, just let it heal a little," Dean said. "You don't wanna pop one of those."

"I'll take 'em out on Monday," Sam said. "You can wait til Monday to hunt it down. The building's empty right?"

"Yeah," John sighed. "Closed for repairs. Can one of you get me a beer?"

Dean nodded and stood up. Sam pulled his brother back into the kitchen after he delivered the bottle to their father.

"He can't hunt for at least a week," Sam whispered. "He'll rip them out. He needs to let himself heal. Try to get him to just, be still for a bit."

"I'll do my best," Dean agreed. "Good job in there."

"Yeah, well," Sam tipped his head and ran his hand through his hair. "You froze, someone had to do something."

"I didn't freeze," Dean scoffed.

"You were a stuttering mess," Sam smiled and laughed, actually laughed.

"Boys," John groaned. "Go to bed, you got school in the morning."

"Yes sir," they said unison.

Dean followed Sam into their room, watched as he flopped face first onto his bed. He'd dream about the smile on that kid's face, hear his laugh ringing in his ears. If he could make his little brother that happy all the time, he'd cut himself wide open every day.

* * *

For a reason Dean didn't understand, Olivia stopped talking him earlier that week. She would keep staring at him in the one class they had together, but when she caught him looking, she look away real fast. She wouldn't come into cafeteria during lunch either. He wasn't really sure what he did wrong, but he couldn't get close enough to her to ask. Maggie made a rare appearance Wednesday afternoon; Dean cornered her in the hallway between his trigonometry and biology classes.

"Did she break up with me and just not tell me?" Dean asked.

"What?" Maggie questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"Olivia," Dean said. "She's being weird and she won't talk to me."

"I don't know anything," Maggie sighed, clearly lying.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean shook his head. "I know babies that lie better. What's going on? What did I do? I know she tells you everything."

"She really hasn't talked to you?" Maggie mumbled looking at the floor.

"No," Dean said, placing his hand on the wall next to Maggie's head. "What's going on?"

"You gotta talk to her," Maggie mumbled. "It's not my place."

"What's going on?" Dean demanded. "Don't play that you don't know."

"Look," Maggie said, pushing his arm away. "You wanna know what's going on with your girlfriend, corner _her_ in the hallway and interrogate her. Don't think for a second some dumbass in a too big leather jacket who thinks he's the shit is going to bully me into betrayin' my friend. So back off Winchester. Man up and talk to her yourself." She pushed by him and walked down the hall, leaving him standing there even more annoyed and confused that he was before.

* * *

He waited outside Olivia's last period class. Just stood there and waited for her to leave. He grabbed her arm before she could run away.

"What the fuck," Olivia yelled. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Dean smirked. "What's going on? Why are you being so weird? You won't even look at me."

Olivia looked past him while chewing in her bottom lip. "Don't ya have to pick up your brother?"

"He takes the bus," Dean rolled his eyes. "Stop avoiding me. Why are you mad at me? What did I do?"

"You didn't _do_ anything," Olivia sighed. "I just didn't want to say anything until I was sure and not just freakin' for no reason."

"About what?" Dean demanded.

"Can… can… can we talk about this later?" Olivia asked softly. "I just I can't have this conversation here. Meet at my house after dinner, we'll talk okay? I promise."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "I'll be there at 7:30."

"Okay," Olivia nodded. She pecked him on the lips before pushing by him and heading toward the door.

* * *

His dad being laid up had only one real advantage, when he wasn't barking orders he was out cold from a nice mix of pain meds and cheap beer. Dean was able to slip out with no explanation, just a sour look from his brother when he promised he wasn't going to be long.

Dean knocked on Olivia's front door, and a boy no older than five year answered.

"Hi, is, uh, Olivia home?" Dean asked.

The boy nodded.

"Can I talk to her?"

"I'm Logan," the little boy said. "Who are you?"

"Dean," he answered. "Can I come in?"

"Are you the boy that kisses Libby at school?" Logan asked seriously.

"Yes," Dean answered.

"I don't think my daddy likes you," Logan replied.

"So I can't come in then?" Dean said, feeling stupid for negotiating with a five year old.

"Who's there, Logan," Olivia called from somewhere inside, her voice getting closer. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh,'" Dean smirked. "Can I come in?"

Olivia led him into the living room.

"Cute kid," Dean smiled sitting down.

"That's my little brother," she shrugged. "He hasn't gotten the concept of stranger danger yet."

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah," Olivia shifted awkwardly on the sofa. "I kinda didn't expect you to show up. And I talked to Maggie and she said you were wicked pissed about me being flaky, but I didn't know what to say, and I wanted to be sure before I said anything. But every time I looked at you I thought about it. And I'm freaking out and Maggie said that I should just tell you so I don't have to freak out alone."

"Freak out about what?" Dean asked.

"I'm late," she whispered, chewing on her lip.

"For what?" Dean shook his head. "You invited me here, if you –"

"No, Dean," Olivia cut him off. "Like a week late."

"Okay..." Dean shrugged confused. He looked at her, trying to figure out why that would freak her out before it hit him. "Oh. Oh my God. But you said… you swore. You said you were sure that… that _this_," he motioned awkwardly at her belly. "Couldn't happen."

"I'm not sure yet," Olivia squirmed. "I haven't, like, taken a test or anything. Maggie said I was supposed to wait a week, so I'm gonna take it at school in the morning."

"Clearly you should always listen to Maggie," Dean was trying not to yell. "Since she's an expert."

"It's not like you were stopping," Olivia hissed.

"I said -" Dean growled as Logan came into the room holding a drawing.

"I made this," he announced handing the piece of construction paper to Dean.

"Thanks," Dean nodded and watched as Logan ran off. "I said I wouldn't do it, but you said this _couldn't happen_."

"Don't get mad at me," Olivia's voice started to shake. "Maggie does it all the time and nothing like this has ever happened to her. She told me that it _couldn't _happen the first time. I believed her, I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do now."

Dean ran his hand down his face. "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," Olivia said pressing her head against his shoulder. "We'll find out tomorrow I guess after I take the test."

"I can…" Dean started staring straight ahead at the blank television. "I can… I can get a full time job at the shop. My boss said he'd take me on full time over the summer. I can take Sam, get an apartment or something."

"What about school?" Olivia looked like she was about to cry. "You haven't missed a day since you've lived here. What about your dad?"

"That's mostly for Sam's benefit," Dean shrugged. "He's smart. He could really make something of himself. I don't want him to be fuck up like me. But I can drop out, work full time. My dad... my dad'll murder me, but we'll figure it out."

"My parents are gonna kill me," Olivia let the tears start to fall down her face. "How am I supposed to convince them I'm responsible enough to move out and live somewhere else if I let this happen?"

"It'll be okay," Dean said, pulling her close to him. She buried her head in the place between his shoulder and neck and sobbed. "We'll figure it out. Don't get too freaked out before you take the test, alright. We'll figure it out."

They sat like that for a long time, until she was out of tears and he's arm was cramped. Until he had to get home because Sam was going to have a fit and his dad would notice he was missing.

"I need to go," Dean whispered.

"Okay," Olivia mumbled. "Will you meet me tomorrow? Before class?"

Dean nodded. "Where?"

"Second floor girls' bathroom," Olivia said. "Next to the math wing?"

"Yeah," Dean kissed her on the forehead. "I'll meet you there first thing."

* * *

When he got back to the house, everything was dark, John still asleep on the sofa, Sam asleep in their room. He felt empty. He was terrified and confused. If his dad found out about this he would kill him before he had the chance to explain himself. He stood in the doorway and watched his little brother sleep. He took off his coat and tossed into his bed, and toed out of his boots before climbing into Sam's bed, pressing right up against him.

"Are you drunk?" Sam yawned squirming away.

"No," Dean whispered.

"Well, you're in the wrong bed," Sam sighed.

"I just…" Dean stammered. "I just need you right now."

"Need me from across the room," Sam placed his foot on Dean's thigh and pushed.

"Don't," Dean. "I just… you know when you were little and it would thunder and you'd come into my bed and tell me that you needed me? That's what I need right now. I just… I just need you right now."

"What's wrong with you?" Sam rolled onto his back.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing."

"No seriously," Sam rolled his eyes. "If you're not drunk, something's wrong. Did that weird girl break up with you?"

"Can you make me a promise?" Dean said softly.

"I guess."

"When you find a little dork girl that wants to do things with you -" Dean started.

"We already had this talk," Sam sighed. "I have a science test first period tomorrow, can you just stop and go to your own bed and let me sleep."

"No listen," Dean pleaded. "When you get that little dork girl home, and things are going real good, you _always_ wear a condom. Understand? I don't care if she's, like the hottest chick you've ever seen and she's begging for it, if you don't got one, don't do it. If you need one, ask me. I swear on my life, that I will _never_ make fun of you for that. Don't be afraid to ask me."

"Do you have some weird disease?" Sam asked. "Stop touching me."

"I don't have a disease," Dean sighed.

"Is… did you… is Olivia _pregnant_," Sam whispered.

"I don't know," Dean mumbled. "Don't tell Dad."

"I won't," Sam turned back toward the wall.

"Just make me that promise kiddo," Dean pleaded.

"Yeah, whatever Dean, I promise," Sam sighed.

"We're gonna find out tomorrow, about Olivia," Dean said into Sam's hair. "Just don't tell Dad. I gotta figure out what I'm gonna do."

"You'll do the right thing," Sam yawned. "You usually do, it just takes a little bit most of the time."

Dean listened to Sam fall asleep, knowing he'd be unable to find sleep himself. It was going to be a long night, possibly a long rest of his life. His dad was going to be pissed, accuse him of being the idiot he knew he was. It helped having Sam that close, knowing that no matter what his little brother believed in him. He felt stupid, gullible, laying there staring at the ceiling. This wasn't one of those problems that he could move away and it would disappear. This could be a kid, a person ,that he'd be responsible for. Olivia didn't know the half of what Dean's life thus far had been like. She didn't know how often they'd moved, how much of his life had been bouncing from place to place. What if he couldn't convince his dad to leave him behind to do the right thing? What if John wouldn't let him keep Sam? How would Sam do on his own with John? How on earth would he be able to feed and clothe another person? These questions swam in his mind as he lay awake waiting for morning.

* * *

_AN: I know this was kind of bit predicable, but I hope this story line okay. Thanks for reading. _


	39. Chapter 39

"I wanna tackle that poltergeist tonight," John said the next morning while the boys shoveled cereal into their mouths.

"Dad," Sam sighed. "It's been just over a day since you nearly had your insides ripped out."

"Exactly, can't let the bastard win," John said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"At least wait it Saturday," Dean sighed. He had enough to worry about without watching his dad try to kill himself. "We still school tomorrow, Olivia and I have plans tonight."

"I told you to stop hanging out with her over a month ago," John said seriously.

"Sam said to let your stitches heal," Dean shot back. "Dad, you're gonna get hurt. The thing almost killed you."

"Exactly why I wanna get rid of it," John smirked. "Your girlfriend will understand, especially since you shouldn't be around that girl in the first place."

Dean rolled his eyes. He wasn't just ditching Olivia now, not with what she was going through.

"I'm not goin' with you if you go tonight," Dean shrugged. "I'm not watching you get yourself killed. You can barely move your arm. You're not going to be able to take a poltergeist alone."

"You're picking your girlfriend over family?" John scoffed. "She got beer flavored nipples or something?"

"Dad," Sam yelled. "You really want to bleed out? Cuz I'm not re-stitching you up, and you know Dean sucks at it and freezes."

"I did not, Sammy," Dean sneered. "Don't be a dick."

"You're not helping," Sam said, eyeing Dean sidewise. "You can't fire a shotgun, you'll rip your chest open. Let yourself heal. Nothing's going to happen if you wait a few days. You said that the building was empty. Just wait til the weekend like you planned. Alright?"

"You boys got no work ethic, you know that?" John chuckled as he shook his head and sipped his coffee. "I raised you both better than that."

"Really?" Sam shook his head.

"You're gonna miss the bus," Dean whacked Sam in the chest. "Let's go."

Sam rolled his eyes and got up, following Dean out the door.

"He's a freakin' idiot," Sam said the moment the door closed behind them.

"I know," Dean nodded. "Just don't pick a fight, okay? I'll talk to him when I get home. I'm not letting him hunt with half his chest missing."

"What's going on with Olivia today?" Sam asked softly as they walked to the bus stop.

"I don't really know," Dean shrugged. "It's kind of a see as we go kind of thing."

"I know you'll do the right thing," Sam nodded. "You always do."

"I don't think I know what the right thing is right now," Dean mumbled.

"Well," Sam said, looking up at his brother when they reached the bus stop, the other kids from the neighborhood already standing around waiting. "I know you'll figure it out."

"Good luck on that test," Dean half smiled.

"You too," Sam replied.

Dean messed up Sam's hair before walking away toward the high school that horrible sinking feeling in his chest getting worse with each step he took.

* * *

Maggie was waiting for him outside the second floor girls' bathroom.

"About fucking time," she rolled her eyes.

"I have to watch my brother off on the bus," Dean glared. "I got responsibilities."

"No shit Sherlock," Maggie sighed. "You're about to have eighteen more years' worth."

"She took the test?" Dean's eyes widened.

"She's not with you?" Maggie's eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"No," Dean shook his head. "She told me to meet her here before first bell. That you were going to get her a test and she was going to take it and let me know what's going on."

"She's not here," Maggie huffed. "What a fucking fruit cake. Just like her to get me to go to school and ditch. I knew I shoulda brought it to her house. Who gives a shit if her parents find out? She coulda just said it was mine."

"No offence, Maggie," Dean said sternly. "But right now, this isn't really about you."

"Whatever," Maggie rolled her eyes. "Do you have cell phone? You can call her."

"I only get it when my dad's outta town," Dean answered. "You really don't know where she is?"

"If I did I wouldn't be chatting it up with the moron that probably knocked her up," Maggie spat. "You couldn't, like, pull out?"

"Can we not have the conversation?" Dean whispered harshly. "Someone's gonna hear you."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "I'm not waiting here all day."

"Let's just wait until the bell, maybe she's just, you know, freaked out," Dean shrugged. "I know I would be… am… really fucking freaked out." Dean leaned against the wall next to Maggie, banging the back of his head lightly against it.

"What would you do?" Maggie asked. "If she was."

"I don't really know," Dean shook his head. "I mean, like, if she is, and she keeps it, wants to raise it, I couldn't… I can't just… I wouldn't leave her. I mean, I'm eighteen; I don't really gotta listen to my dad. But I can't leave Sammy alone with him, they'd kill each other, but I'd have my own family that I had to take care of, you know? I just… I don't know. What would you do?"

"I wouldn't have it," Maggie said seriously. "I'd go to Boston and get rid of it. No one would ever know. I'm in high school. I don't need that shit."

"Nice," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah well," Maggie shrugged as the bell rang. "I don't even know what my first period class is."

"If you hear from her," Dean said as Maggie started to walk away.

"I'll point her in your direction," Maggie nodded.

* * *

He wasn't much for paying attention on a regular day, he didn't even own a notebook, but that day he was so distracted there wasn't really a point in being in class at all. Olivia didn't show up at lunch, or in their sixth period British Literature class, or appear outside while he stared out the window hoping she'd just be there. He walked home in a haze of worry and confusion.

"There's a letter for you on the counter," Sam said the moment Dean opened the door. "No address, just says 'Dean Winchester' with a heart over the 'I' so I'm guessing it's from Olivia. It was in the mailbox when I got home."

His brother was sitting at the kitchen table playing with a deck of cards, going between them and a thick book propped up against his other school books.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"One of my friends taught me a magic trick," Sam answered. "It was wicked cool, so I got a book of magic tricks out of the library."

"Wicked cool, huh?" Dean smirked. "Picking up on the local lingo?"

"What?" Sam said turning toward him.

"Nothing," Dean shook his head. "Where's this letter?"

"It's the only envelope on the counter," Sam replied, turning back to his cards.

Dean picked up the yellow envelope and ripped it open, finding a handwritten note on a piece of notebook paper written in Olivia's bubbly girly handwriting.

_Dean,_

_My parents decided to head to Worcester early, I guess my great aunt or something is sick. I tried to tell you in the morning, but you'd already left when I got to your house. I'll call you Saturday night after my appointment. Sorry I couldn't get to you before we left. I know you must be freaking out. I'm freaking out too. Sorry. I'll see you next week. _

_Olivia_

Dean crumbled the paper on the in his fist and tossed it into the trash can. This was crap. She knew he walked by her house on the way home. She knew he wouldn't come over if her parents were there. He wasn't sure what kind of game she was playing but he was going to even up in the middle of it. It wasn't okay to fuck with people like this. He wasn't the type of person that liked to be messed with, and this girl, well he wasn't sure what she was playing at, but he didn't like it at all.

"Where's Dad?"

"No idea, car wasn't here when I got off the bus," Sam answered never looking up from his cards. "Why?"

"I thought we were hunting that thing tonight," Dean said. "Wanna get this shit over with."

"What happened with Olivia?" Sam asked, looking up. "I thought you guys have had plans. Did you find out about the thing?"

"No," Dean sighed. "She just left me this dumbass note saying she's sorry she missed this morning and she's heading to her grandparents early, which is bullshit, because the minivan is her fucking driveway. She ditched school instead of taking the fucking test and I've been freaking out all fucking day. So I kinda just want to shoot something."

"Dad'll rip his stiches if anything happens," Sam said serious. "He could bleed out. Let him heal."

"You know dad's stubborn," Dean shrugged. "He's probably there now."

"What are you gonna do about Olivia?"

"I'm not playing games," Dean shook his head. "I mean, if she wants to string me along tell me she's having my kid or whatever so I won't breakup with her, I'm not playin' her game, Sammy. It's stupid."

"But what if she is?" Sam said softly. "I mean, like, what are you gonna do?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," Dean flopped down in the chair next to his brother. "What's this you got going on? You a magician or something now?"

"Working on it," Sam shuffled his deck of cards and looked at his book again. "I wanna impress Crystal after vacation."

"Crystal," Dean smirked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "She's on the debate team. She's the one that got me to join. You kinda met her one time."

"Is she, like, your girlfriend?"

"No," Sam sighed. "She's not. We're just friends. She's pretty awesome, though. She can do all sorts of magic tricks. She shows me a new one, like, every day. I wanna impress her after vacation."

"Cool," Dean nodded.

"Are you gonna call her, Olivia?" Sam asked. "Since she's home? I mean that would make sense."

"No," Dean shook his head. "She said she'd call me Saturday. So I'm just gonna trust that she will. I mean, she can't hide from me forever. I'm just not gonna worry about it right now. I can't. It's stupid. I don't like mind games."

"Maybe she's just scared," Sam reasoned. "You seemed pretty scared when you got home yesterday."

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged.

To be honest, Dean was completely terrified, Saturday seemed a lifetime away. He was hoping all this would be over in the morning that she'd do her thing and he'd never have to think about it again. Maybe she was trying to freak him out as much as she was; maybe she just wanted to make him sweat a little bit. If that was her plan, it was working. Dean was good at playing it cool, making it look like nothing whatsoever could bother him, but his stomach was in knots. He needed to get some of his nervous energy out. He knew his brother wouldn't like it, but he was hunting a freaking poltergeist that night.

The door slammed open and their father made his way through the door arms full of paper bags. Dean jumped up to help, grabbing one bag and dropping it on the counter. It was filled with seeming random spices.

"Called a source," John announced. "Told me we gotta make these bag things, stick 'em in the walls to cleanse the building or some shit. So that's what you boys are gonna be doing after dinner." John smiled widely as unstapled the second bag, pulling out some Chinese takeout containers and spreading them around the kitchen counter.

* * *

The boys spread out the ingredients across the kitchen table as John explained what went into the little burlap bags. John tied each one with a piece of twine and placed it back into the grocery bag on the floor.

"You boys ready for this?" John asked when they'd finished.

"Tomorrow maybe," Sam sighed. "You're going to rip yourself open again."

"I've done this before Sammy," John said sternly. "I know what I'm doing. I think I can keep myself safe."

"Like the other night?" Sam replied. "Seriously Dad, it's stupid."

"I'm ready," Dean nodded. "Leave the kid home, we can do it."

"You really think that's a good idea, Dean, with everything going on right now?" Sam rolled his eyes. "You're distracted, more likely to get seriously hurt."

"Distracted by what?" John looked between his boys.

"Nothing," Dean said with his teeth tightly clenched looking at Sam. "Absolutely nothing."

"What's going on?" John demanded.

"Nothing," Dean shook his head dismissively. "I'm ready. I can do this. Let's hunt this thing."

"I thought you had a thing with Olivia," Sam said quickly.

"_Dad_ told me not to see her," Dean shrugged. "I'm not gonna see her." He looked sideways at Sam, who wore a pissed off face that he seen on his father about a million times.

"And when have you _ever_ listened to me about a girl?" John chuckled.

"First time for everything apparently," Sam rolled his eyes so far Dean could feel it across the table.

"I think I can do this, Dad," Dean nodded. "We got all the intel we need, we're equipped, you got real back up. I'm ready."

"It's kinda tricky," John said leaning back to lift the front legs of his chair off the floor. "This ain't like the easy hunts we've been on. Poltergeists are mean sons of bitches."

"I can handle it," Dean said, locking eyes with his dad.

"I like to have at least one more covering our backs," John shook his head. "But they're no one else in the area. It's a big building, poltergeists are sneaky, mean, bastards. You sure you'll be able to handle it."

"What about your big test?" Sam asked quickly. "You should probably prepare of it. It could mess up your whole future."

Dean closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I get the results this weeked, Sammy," Dean planted a thin fake smile across his face. "Nothing I can do about it until then."

"What test?" John said looking between his boys.

"Nothin' sir," Dean replied. "Just _a kid_ over reacting to something I said a few days ago. I can handle it. You're always saying how I need to experience different kinds of hunts. I'm eighteen, I can handle it. I'm ready."

John rolled his eyes, dropped the chair back onto all four legs, and clapped. "Great, let's pack up the car!"

* * *

It wasn't a very long drive, almost seemed pointless to take the car, but they had a lot of gear to carry, and a disgruntled thirteen year old lookout that didn't want to be anywhere near this hunt, so it was best to try to keep him in the car.

"You take the east and north walls, staring on the first floor," John explained handing Dean a plastic bag full of the pouches the boys had put together earlier. "I was here earlier, poked some holes in the walls, all you gotta do it drop one of these in the hole on each floor, alright?"

Dean nodded and popped the car door.

"After you finish that, met me right here," John said seriously. "I'm starting on the top and working down, hopefully that will confuse it enough, but these fuckers are gonna realize what we're going pretty fast, you keep your gun loaded. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Dean nodded. "Got extra salt shells in my pocket." He patted his right breast pocket of his shirt. "I can do this."

"Alright," John nodded. "If I'm not here when you finish, don't do nothing stupid like come look for me. You could get yourself hurt."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded.

"You're a moron," Sam sighed from the backseat. "You're both gonna get yourselves killed."

"Nice sendoff Sammy," Dean rolled his eyes.

John stepped out of the car and slammed the door, started walking toward the building.

"You're gonna get killed and leave Olivia by herself," Sam hissed. "What if she is having your kid right now?"

"I know Sam what's at stake here," Dean shook his head. "Four people died in that building, Dad and I are gonna stop anyone else from dying. I don't need this from you right now. If Olivia wanted me to know what was going on, she'd of shown up and school today, she wouldn't have written that bullshit note. So you don't get to guilt trip me into not doing this. _This_ is what I want to do. And you know what, if I did knock her up, this is probably gonna be the last one I ever do. So shut up, Sammy."

Dean stepped out of the car and slammed the door way harder than was necessary before Sam could respond. He walked toward his father as he shoulder his sawed off.

"Let's do this."

* * *

The first floor went pretty simply, the hardest part was finding the where his dad had sledge hammered the holes into the wall. When he got to the second floor he started to hear shot gun blasts coming from above him. He dropped another bag into a whole and started toward the East wall, hyper aware of his surroundings. He expected to see an entity like the ghosts he'd hunted before; what he got, however, was an unseen force shoving him up against a wall face first. It took a lot of struggle but he was able to get out a shot that sent whatever was holding him against the cold concrete to let go. He started to hurry, running up the next set of stairs. His dad had placed the holes in the middle of each of the walls, so Dean rushed to longer East wall to find it. Before he was able to get to it, the equipment the construction crew that was refurbishing the building started to move. He heard his father's gun go off across on the other side of the building, distracting him just enough to not see the table saw sliding across the floor toward him. He shot at the nothing in the room when it hit him, but it didn't stop anything.

He was pinned against the wall trying to push at a table saw that was pushing back. He kept firing and reloading his gun trying to stop it, but nothing happened. Tools and building materials were flying around him. He heard his father's gun go off below him, making it pointless to try to call out. He couldn't move, he'd failed, again. He took a deep breath and shoved has hard as he could at the table saw, finally moving it enough to squeeze out and run toward the hole in the wall. He dropped the canvas bag inside and heading back toward the stairs, the other wall, trying his best to avoid all the flying objects.

As he reached the next hole in the wall, a two by four started came flying toward him. He fired the gun toward it, but it didn't stop coming. He was helpless as it hit him in forehead, sending him down to the floor in complete blackness.


	40. Chapter 40

There was a little toe headed girl, no older than three, sitting on the floor next to a coffee table playing with a toy car. Dean sat on an old, well-loved, gray couch watching and sipping coffee, his feet up on the table made out of a piece of plywood screwed to two four by sixes in front of him. The little girl laughed to herself, much the way he remembered his brother doing when he was that little, her head tipping back in a full bodied laugh as she rolled the car along the table, bumping it into Dean's boot a couple times.

"Yous gotta move your foots," the little girl giggled. "I gots to drive my cah 'cross the table."

Dean moved his feet so the little girl could run the car along the table, scooting along on her knees behind it.

"I's going on a 'venture," The little girl nodded as she made the car fly and land on the floor, pushing it around the living room. Dean couldn't help but smile as she pushed past a part of legs and into the living room.

Dean looked up the pair of long legs to find Olivia walking toward him with her own cup of coffee.

"No work today?" she asked sitting down next to him.

Dean shook his head. "No, got today and Wednesday off this week, but I have to work next weekend. Traded with Phil. He has his kids, so I said I would take his weekend if I could have his Tuesday Wednesday. Works out for everyone."

"I don't gotta be at the bookstore 'til four," Olivia said. "Wanna take her and go to the park or something, then go out to lunch?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "I think she'd like that."

"Go get her?" Olivia said, pecking him on the mouth. "She likes you better."

"Cuz I give her cookies," Dean smirked pushing himself off the couch.

"Wrapped around her finger," Olivia giggled, holding her pinkie up in front of her face. "Daddy's little girl."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Vroom!" the little girl rolled the car around the kitchen floor and over Dean's shoes.

"You wanna go to the park, Samantha?" Dean asked.

She looked up at him with very familiar big green eyes and pressed her lips together in thought.

"I think so Daddy," she nodded after a minute of contemplation. "I like the swings."

"Let's get you dressed then," Dean said, leaning down to pick her up.

"I can do it," Samantha nodded as they walked into her small room. "l good at clothes Daddy. I wear my pink shirt and pink tights." Dean placed her on her bed and pulled one of many pink shirts and tights out of her dresser.

"What skirt to you want to wear?" Dean asked.

"The blue one," Samantha nodded sliding off her bed. "I do it!" She grabbed the clothes out of Dean's hand and pushed him toward the door. "I do it all by myself."

"Alright," Dean laughed stepping outside her bedroom. "Let me know if you need help, Sammy."

"Go away," Samantha said, closing the door. "I do it."

Dean leaned against the wall next between the refrigerator and Samantha's room waiting for her to come out. Olivia entered the room to drop off her coffee cup and gave him a quizzical look.

"She can do it herself," Dean announced. "Doesn't need help."

"She's gonna end up in a horrible unmatched random outfit," Olivia sighed. "And I'm gonna hafta take her out in it and everyone's gonna stare and think I'm a bad mom."

"Tell 'em Daddy dressed her," Dean smirked walking to stand behind her while she rinsed her cup off in the sink. "She matches, I approved the clothes before she put them on."

"All done!" Samantha declared stepping of her room. "I need shoes. I don't tie them, need help."

"Beauty and the Beast shoes?" Dean asked.

"Those my favorite," Samantha smiled running over.

Dean and Samantha walked hand and hand out of the tiny house and down the street to the little park. There were a couple of families with small children running around, neighbors that Samantha was in daycare with when both her parents were working. Samantha pulled Dean toward the empty swings, while Olivia went to talk to the other moms sitting on the park bench watching their children play.

"Push me high!" Samantha demanded as Dean helped her up onto the swing. "I want to kick the sky."

Dean remembered Sam making that same demand whenever they went to the park near Bobby's or lived in a motel with a playground when they were kids. He always wanted to kick the sky, but the only way he could it was if Dean pushed him.

"Too high Daddy!" Samantha squealed. "I gonna go over the bar!"

Dean grabbed the chains to slow her down until Samantha stopped on her own. She hopped off and ran toward the other kid and the jungle gym. Dean went over to sit with Olivia. He could see the little girl from the bench. She climbed up the slide waving and smiling calling to Dean and Olivia to watch her.

"She grew up too fast," Olivia sighed placing her head on his shoulder. "Doesn't need us anymore."

"She's three," Dean chuckled. "She still needs us. She can't tie her shoes yet. Too young to get a job, so she needs us to pay for things. I gotta cut up her food. She can't reach the sink by herself. She can't read yet. She'll need us for a couple more years. My brother would still crawl into bed with me until he was nine when he was scared. We'll get a few more years."

"What would you think of having another one?" Olivia whispered sweetly into his ear. "Starting all over again?"

Dean looked over at her sideways. "Really?" Olivia nodded. "You sure?"

"Mmhmm," She hummed. "Had a doctor's appointment yesterday while you were at work, ran some standard blood tests like they always do when I go in, came back positive."

"Can we afford it?" Dean asked.

"We get by now," Olivia answered. "We're doing fine. We can figure it out. We always do."

She kissed him hard on the cheek as Samantha called again from the top of the slide.

* * *

When they walked home, Samantha clutching Dean's hand with one of hers the other holding a strawberry shake. They waved goodbye to Olivia as she heading in the other direction toward her job at the book store.

"You ready for a nap kiddo?" Dean asked as they climbed the rickety stairs to their front door.

"I very tired," Samantha nodded. "You read me a story? You read me the elephant books?"

"I'll read you some elephant books," Dean nodded as he opened the door.

Samantha ran to her room and grabbed her favorite bedtime story and brought it to the couch where Dean sat, squirming up onto his lap. He read the story until she fell sleep, then turned on the TV, watching the five o'clock news until he fell asleep too.

* * *

When he woke up, he couldn't breathe. He started to panic, reaching for something, someone to help him.

"Dean!" his brother yelled. Dean looked around trying to find where Sam's voice was coming from. "Don't move, alright, just don't move. Don't try to talk. I'm gonna get a nurse."

Dean tried to even out his breathing, he observed the room slowly, white walls, blue curtains, his leg suspended from the ceiling encased in a white plaster cast, tubes coming out of his arms and mouth. The nurse appeared next to him, flicking a light into his eyes.

"Okay, I'm gonna take the feeding tube out, alright?" she said. Dean nodded a little bit, and she set off to work.

He couldn't stop coughing as she checked his vital signs and charts, mad e him follow her finger with his eyes, poked him in the abdomen a few times. She smiled and left the room telling them that the doctor would be in shortly.

"Why aren't you at school?" Dean coughed. "Where's dad?"

"It's vacation, you've been out of a while," Sam answered. He uncapped bottled water and handed it to Dean. "Dad's chasing down a lead on something. He's in Maryland I think."

"He left you here alone?" Dean scoffed. Then slowly drank. It felt like he'd eaten a desert and a bunch of razor blades.

"Bobby's here," Sam replied.

"That's a two day drive," Dean shook his head. "How long was I out?"

Sam fidgeted, but didn't answer.

"Sammy?" Dean pressed. Sam refused to look at him. "How long was I unconscious?"

"A while?" Sam's voice raised to make it a question.

"Sam," Dean said sternly then started coughing so hard it hurt his ribs. "What day is it."

"Wednesday," Sam answered.

"Did Olivia call?" Dean asked slightly panicked.

"She left a message for you to call her back," Sam nodded. "I went to her house and told her you were in a car wreck, which is what Dad told everyone."

"And?" Dean pressed. "Did she tell you anything?"

Sam shook his head.

"I gotta call her," Dean tried to push himself up and reach for the phone

"That's not a good idea," Sam said quickly.

"Why?" Dean demanded, trying to sound like his father, but he voice was too hoarse to sound overpowering.

"It's April," Sam mumbled.

"What?" Dean shook his head. "You said it was vacation week."

"It is," Sam nodded. "Spring break."

"I've been out for two months?"

Sam nodded staring at the floor.

"Bullshit," Dean scoffed. "Not funny Sammy."

The doctor came in to check Dean over; he couldn't look away from his brother whose eyes were glued to the floor.

"You were a bit touch and go for a while there Mr. Winchester," the doctor said when he'd finished poking and checking Dean over. "Glad I finally get to meet you."

"When can I leave?" Dean asked irritably.

"Not for a few days at least," the doctor smiled. "We're going to take you for some x-rays of your leg. It should be fine, all healed up. And I want to do a brain scan make sure all the swelling is actually gone. I'm afraid it'll be a while yet before we can discharge you."

"Who's paying for all this?" Dean demanded.

"Dad," Sam said softly. "Dad took care of it. I'm gonna go call Bobby while you get the rest of your tests. Alright? He'll be here when you get back."

* * *

Dean fell back to sleep while getting his MRI. He woke up to Bobby playing his toes through is hospital blanket.

"Don't," Dean whined pulling his foot away.

"Hey, kiddo," Bobby smiled. "How ya feeling?"

"Tired," Dean yawned.

"You slept for two months," Sam rolled his eyes. "How can you be tired?"

"Shut up," Dean sighed. "It's really April?"

"Almost May," Bobby nodded. "What happened in the building? Your Daddy said he found you on a landing with a gash in your head."

"I don't really know," Dean answered. "I was doing what Dad said, then all this shit started flying at me and a board can at me. I guess I didn't duck."

"You went over a railing," Bobby answered. "You're lucky you woke up. _Very _lucky. Lucky you don't have a broken neck. You got someone watching over ya."

"Is Dad mad?" Dean mumbled. He hadn't finished the job; he'd failed another mission his father had sent him on. That was probably why he wasn't there. He couldn't bear to see his little fuck up.

"Dad's a jerk," Sam answered. "He was more worried about cleansing that stupid building than taking you to the hospital. When he dragged you out I thought you were dead. Dad ran back in to finish up. Left you crumpled in the back seat then he bitched about having to fake a friggin car accident to cover it up. You were barely breathing."

"Sammy," Bobby said sternly. "Don't, not right now." Then he turned to Dean. "He'll be happy to hear you're awake."

"How long did he wait before leaving?" Dean asked.

"Two weeks," Bobby replied, he looked sideways at Sam, as if warning him to keep his mouth closed. "He couldn't sit around and listen to your monitors beep. I sent him away. He was pacing and antsy."

"When can I get out of here?" Dean continued. "I don't want to be in here."

"Let them keep you overnight," Bobby said, squeezing Dean's calf. "You were in a coma, kiddo, just listen to the medical staff. They know what they're doing here. I'll get you out when I can."

* * *

Dean tried to call Olivia, left her messages on her parents answering machine every day for a week. He finally broke down and wrote her a letter, sent Sam to her house to deliver it. He told her he was sorry, but you can't really predict car accidents. He explained that he was moving to South Dakota to be with family, it was easier with his injuries and his dad's job, and gave her Bobby's home number and address if she wanted to get in touch with him. He asked her to please let him know what was going on. He needed to know.

He didn't hear back from her.

* * *

In Sioux Falls, Bobby made Dean go to a rehab clinic, so he could relearn how to walk after spending so much time not moving. Bobby liked the kid, but he wasn't pushing him around in a wheelchair for any longer than was necessary, and according to Bobby, the entrance of the hospital to the car was too long.

John met them after they'd been living at Bobby's for three weeks. He couldn't even look at Dean. Dean knew it was because he failed; ruined a fairly easy hunt. He hated that look in his father's eyes, that _disappointment_.

It took months to get back into hunting shape. Months of running PT drills three times a day against the advice of the people at the rehab facility and Bobby. He wanted to make up for his failings. He was going to make John proud of him. When he got back into shape, he was bigger, stronger, better than he was when entered the abandoned building in Amherst. He wasn't going to be that disappointment anymore.

* * *

_An: I know this chapter was a little weird. There are a few reasons why I made the choices I did in this section, if you want to know, message me and I'll be glad to explain them. __Thank you for reading. __I hope you liked it._


	41. Chapter 41

Sam turned fifteen in a trailer park in Flagstaff, Arizona. Dean wanted to make his brother's birthday memorable; the kid hadn't had one of those in a long time. When he'd got off work, he'd done a quick grocery run, getting cake and ice cream, he decided he'd let Sam pick what he wanted to have for dinner. He'd take him out if he wanted to go, maybe they'd see a movie, go to the pool hall down town, whatever Sam wanted to do. He wasn't sure if their dad would be home or not. He'd been in California for a week chasing something he didn't feel like he needed to explain before hopping in his new truck and taking off.

John had finally given Dean the keys to the Impala when he'd recovered fully from the injuries he'd gotten in Amherst; whether it was out of guilt or John felt like Dean actual deserved, well, to be honest, Dean felt like it was more the former. He couldn't help but see the look of guilt that still plagued John's eyes whenever Dean talked to him, as if John had thrown him over that railing himself. To Dean, though, that was just an accident, a hazard of the job he wanted more than to do and do well.

When he got home, his dad truck was parked next to the Impala. John was in the living room with a half empty beer balancing on his knee while he watched television, Sam was barricaded in their room, reading.

"We got cake," Dean announced, dropping down onto his bed.

"Why?" Sam moaned, dramatically lowering his book and glaring at this brother.

"It's your birthday?" Dean answered.

"Yeah," Sam shrugged. "So?"

"You get cake on your birthday? It's what people do." Dean replied. "Why you being such a freak?"

"I'm not," Sam said. "I just figured Dad was too busy to care what day it was. It's not like he's ever given a shit before."

"_I_ bought you the cake," Dean said. "Because I figured you'd want to celebrate. I can take ya out to dinner or something, whatever you want."

"We bringing dad?" Sam asked.

"Not if you don't want to," Dean shrugged. "I'll tell him we had plans for a while if you want me to. There's kinda fancy soup and sandwich places that you like downtown and this, like, family run Italian joint that we've ordered lunch from at the shop a few times that's pretty decent. Pool hall/bowling alley I hear a lot of kids your age hang out at. We can check it out if you want, make a little money."

"Dad's not gonna get pissed is he?" Sam looked over at Dean through his bangs.

"He's in his post hunt buzz," Dean replied. "Probably isn't up to goin' out tonight. It'll be just the two of us."

"Yeah, okay," Sam nodded. "I just wanna finish this chapter first. Give me, like, an hour, then we'll go out."

"Sounds good," Dean smiled, standing up. He crossed the room and ruffled Sam's messy hair. "Let me know when your ready kiddo."

* * *

"Where the fuck are two of you are off to?" John slurred while the boys got ready to leave about an hour later.

"I need stuff for a project," Sam lied. "Dean's taking me into town to buy it."

"You need money for that kind of shit?" John turned and in the process kicked over a couple of the empties that had accumulated in front of him.

"I got it covered, Dad," Dean replied, pushing Sam toward the door. "We'll be back in a few hours, alright?" He followed Sam out and walked to the car.

"You do realize he has a problem right?" Sam asked as they slid into the Impala.

"He has a hard job," Dean shrugged.

"A lot of people do," Sam shook his head. "Not everyone drinks that much. It's not normal."

"Yeah, well," Dean replied revving the engine. "You go and live the life he has. You'd probably drink a twelve pack a night too."

They drove in silence toward town; Dean noticed for the first time that Sam's knees were getting too close to the glove box, even when he wasn't slouching. They were almost the same height now. Not that Dean _hadn't_ noticed since he was the one in charge of making sure Sam had clothes that fit him, taking him to the store when Sam started digging through the wrong duffle bag for jeans, but knowing it, and acknowledging that his little brother was almost an adult were two different things.

"So…" Dean started; trying to flush out the awkward that had filled the car. "You got a girlfriend or anything? I feel like I never see you anymore between work and your weird schedule with all your extracurricular activities."

"Not really," Sam answered. "Just a group of friends at school. They want me to join the drama club with them next year, but I know we won't be around that long, but I don't want to flat out say no. There's a girl in my biology class that's, like, Dean, she's like, so pretty."

"Girl got a name?" Dean pressed.

"Weirdest thing," Dean could hear the smirk in Sam's voice as the spoke. "Her parents decided when she was born that they weren't going to give her a name, so she's the only person in the world who don't got one. Makes school work kind of hard, because she can't write her name on the top of the paper, so she gets points taken off sometimes. And teachers have to call her No Name. It's a rough life, luckily, though, she's super-hot."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Funny."

"Her name's Tiffany," Sam answered. "Tiffany Phillips."

"She got a sister?" Dean asked, half joking.

"I don't know," Sam said seriously. "I don't actually _talk_ to her. She's like popular and stuff."

"Yeah, so?"

"I'm the weird new kid," Sam explained. "I sit with the other weird kids and the nerds across the lunch room. I answer questions in class; girls like her file their nails and don't pay attention. Girls like Tiffany don't talk to guys like me. I'm not you. I mean, I can't just smile at them and girls take their underwear off."

"That has _never_ happened," Dean chuckled.

"Whatever, Tiffany wouldn't go for a guy like me. I'm not her type."

"You don't know what until you try, right?" Dean asked. "Just suck it up and say hi."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, okay, sure, Dean I'll just go up and talk to her. That's awesome advice."

"I'm really confused Sam," Dean said. "I've see you take down Dad sparring a couple times. You killed that kitsune in Nebraska last month. It's not like your shy or something. You talk to people all the time. It's just a girl, no big deal."

"It's _not_ just a girl," Sam clarified. "She's a cheerleader and popular and she was on the Homecoming Court, as a freshman. Do you realize how impossible that is? It's, like, unheard of. I can't just go up to her. She probably has, like, a body guard to keep freaks like me away."

"Does she have a boyfriend?" Dean asked.

"No, she went through this big break up right after we moved here," Sam said. "It was a pretty big deal."

"So ask her out," Dean replied. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"She could say no," Sam answered. "She could humiliate me in front of the whole school. We'd have to move, but something like that would probably follow me to next town. It could ruin my life, Dean."

"But she could say yes," Dean said as they pulled into the parking lot of the little Italian place. "You don't have to be so over dramatic about everything, little man. You never know until you try. This old boyfriend was probably a hardcore, bone headed jock, right? Maybe she's looking for a change. Maybe a little geek is exactly what she's looking for right now."

Sam thought about as they walked into the restaurant and waited to be seated.

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"If you don't ask, Sammy," Dean smiled. "You'll never know."

* * *

Dinner when smoothly, they laughed and talked about Sam's school and Dean's job at the auto shop when he wasn't out with John hunting, overall a pretty nice night as far as they were concerned. They didn't get nights like that very often, Dean wanted to make the most out of having Sam relaxed and not yelling at something. Sam always seemed so angry lately. It had gotten worse since Dean got hurt, Sam seemed to have this cloud of rage that followed him everywhere. Dean understood that being a teenager wasn't easy, he was in rough spot when he was fifteen, he understood that. Living the way they did was hard enough without trying to figure out who you were as a person. Sam could handle it. Dean knew that, he just wasn't sure if Sam understood that eventually high school was over, and it would get better.

They drove to the bowling alley down the road. It being Saturday it was pretty packed with high school kids.

"Anybody here you know?" Dean asked as he surveyed the scene.

"Yeah," Sam shrugged. "A couple of my friends are here."

"If you'd rather go off with them," Dean said. "I wouldn't be upset. It's your day."

"They didn't invite me," Sam mumbled. "Probably don't want to hang out with me."

"Dude," Dean rolled his eyes. "Go say hi, it won't kill you." He grabbed Sam by the shoulders and spun him around then pushed him in the general direction of kids that looked about Sam's age. "Seriously, take a chance every now and then, kid."

Dean sauntered over the bar area behind the pool tables, he still has the fake id that Olivia and Maggie had given him, for the most part, still worked. He ordered himself a beer and sat down at a little table overlooking the bowling alley so he could keep an eye on Sam.

"Is someone sitting here?" a petite raven haired girl asked Dean, pointing at the chair opposite him.

"No you can take it," Dean said, turning back to crowd. Sam, it appeared, had been added to their game as he was in line to get a pair of bowling shoes. Dean half waved and smiled when Sam looked up to him. He turned to see the girl sitting down across from him. "Can I help you with something?"

"You looked lonely," she smiled.

"_You_ look about twelve," Dean turned away, taking a long drink from his plastic cup. He watched as Sam started to make his way over to him.

"I'm sixteen," she corrected.

"That's great," Dean looked at him side eyed and shook his head. "I'm glad you can drive. What do you do want from me?"

"You don't have to be a dick," the girl huffed.

"Hey… umm… can I have, like ten bucks?" Sam asked.

Dean turned to his brother as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

"You know him?" the girl asked. Neither boy was sure which one of them she was speaking to.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He's my brother."

"Really?" the girl looked back and forth between them. "Neat."

"Yeah…" Dean pressed his eyebrows together.

"Why is _she_ sitting with you?" Sam hissed as he stepped closer to Dean so he could whisper.

"She asked if the seat was taken," Dean replied. "I told her she could take it, I thought she needed another chair for her friends and then she sat down. I didn't invite her over. I'm not into middle schoolers."

"She's not a middle schooler," Sam replied. "She's a sophomore."

"Awesome," Dean shrugged. "Who is she?"

Sam turned a deep shade of red and stood up and started to back away. "Thanks…. For the money… Dean… I'll… um… yeah, I'm gonna go bowl… and stuff."

"Sam!" Dean called after him; then turned to the girl. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"My name's Tiffany," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

"Of course it is," Dean sighed.

"Your brother _must_ have mentioned me," she pushed her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyes. "Everyone knows me at school."

"That's great," Dean said, turning to look for Sam in the crowd. He was back with his friends. It looked like he was having a good time from Dean's point of view.

"So, Sam's your brother?" Tiffany asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He wanted to flat out ignore her, but he knew that would be a little bit too rude. "Have been his whole life."

"That's funny," Tiffany smiled. "Sam's in my biology class, he's pretty smart."

"Yeah he is," Dean nodded. "Little genius."

"He did this diagram of glucose cell," Tiffany continued. "It was the best in the class. He must have worked really hard on it."

Dean nodded, he remember that project, Sam had done it in Wyoming in October and kept it because he was so proud of how it came out just in case he got assigned the same project again.

"He's really nice too," Tiffany continued. "Holds doors and stuff. Not a lotta boys at school do that."

"You got the hots for him or something," Dean sighed.

"No," Tiffany scoffed. "He's a freshman, and a nerd, totally not my type at all."

"Okay," Dean nodded. He was trying not to engage, but this girl just won't stop talking.

"I'm into that hard-core, leather jacket, bad boys type," Tiffany started to lean over the table. "Older guys, you know what I mean?"

"I'm not interested in twelve year olds," Dean replied.

"I'm _sixteen_," Tiffany emphasized.

"As far as I'm concerned," Dean turned to here and smiled. "Y'all twelve til you turn eighteen. Sorry, babe."

"Right cuz you're _so _much older than me," Tiffany glared. "What are you doing watching a bunch of high schools bowl if you're too good for it?"

Dean turned to her, looking her right in the eye as he spoke. "I don't mess with high school girls. Especially the one my brother likes. So go bat your eyes at someone else sweetheart. I'm not interested."

"Sam likes me?" Tiffany whispered.

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "He really does."

"You're not just saying that to get me to leave alone?" Tiffany asked softly.

"No," Dean answered. "But I _would _really like it if ya did."

"Can I stay here until Sam comes back?" Tiffany replied.

"Do whatever you want," Dean answered. "If Sam comes back up here, tell him I hit the pool tables."

* * *

Sam found him a few hours later, Dean had a couple hundred bucks more than he'd started with lining his wallet, grinning like a Cheshire as he collected his dues from people who weren't used to losing.

"Hey," Sam said punching Dean in the arm. "My friend, Greg, wants me to go to a party. Can I go?"

"What kind of party?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Sam replied. "A party, party I guess. It's at Alex O'Donnell's house."

"Who is that?"

"I don't really know," Sam said honestly. "He just said that a bunch of people were gonna be there and I should go."

"Is Tiffany going?" Dean nodded toward the food area.

"I don't know," Sam mumbled.

"If you invite her," Dean smirked. "I'll drive you there. I'll even throw in a sixer."

It looked like Sam's entire body flushed he turned to the food area, Tiffany was visible sitting where Dean left her, observing what was going on around her.

"All you gotta do is ask her if she wants to go," Dean said. "And you can go. If you don't, you can tell your friends your brother is a big jerk that won't let you do nothin' fun."

"Just gotta ask her," Sam nodded.

"Just gotta ask her a simple question," Dean smiled.

"I can do that," Sam nodded. "I can do that."

Dean watched Sam take several deep breathes before taking a step forward. He leaned back against the pool table as Sam, red blotches visible from where Dean stood all over his neck and chest, as he spoke to the girl. Dean was proud of him. That little kid he taught to tie his shoes all grown up and talking to girls. There was part of Dean that wanted to keep Sam little forever, wanted him to still be the five year old that cried at thunder storms, still needed Dean to cut up his dinner before he ate it, but a bigger part of him was happy that Sam didn't need that anymore. Sam eased into the conversation, laughed and smiled with this girl. Dean couldn't help but grin as the two walked toward him and Sam gave a big thumbs up behind her back.

"Either of you know where this kid lives?" Dean asked when they reach him.

"Yeah," Tiffany nodded. "I do, he had parties all the time."

"Awesome," Dean nodded before following the two outside. He let Tiffany into the back seat, then pulled Sam to the trunk of the car. "I know this is your first real date, but here." Dean pressed the condom from his wallet into Sam's hand. "Just in case."

"That's not gonna happen," Sam chuckled trying to hand it back.

"Dude," Dean said seriously. "Stick it in your wallet, you never know."

"Yeah, I do," Sam shook his head.

"Sammy," Dean placed a hand on each side of his little brother's face. "I'm tellin' ya, right now, just hold on it. You don't need any accidents. It doesn't seem like a possibility, but trust me, kid, it's better to have it than not to, okay."

Sam nodded, pulled out his own wallet and tucked it inside.

"Let's go," Dean said, tapping Sam twice on the shoulder. "I'll get ya that sixer than we'll head to this kids house."

"Yeah, cool," Sam nodded.

"You call me when you wanna leave," Dean said over the roof of the car as they made their way to the doors. "Have fun, just don't do anything stupid, and call me."

"You can come with, you know," Sam said, hand on the door handle.

"High school parties loose there appeal when you're not in high school," Dean shook his head.

"You'd still be a senior if you didn't drop out," Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, but it gets a little creepy when a drop out still hangs out with high schoolers. Let's go, before your girlfriend thinks we're talking about her."

Sam rolled his eyes as he popped the car door and slid inside.

* * *

Dean spent the night cruising around town, stopping into a couple dive bars and lined his pockets waiting for that phone call. He knew that going home without Sam would lead to questions he didn't want to answer from his dad. John wasn't too thrilled about Dean going to parties now, he'd throw a fit he knew Dean let Sam go to one. He planned how he was going to get a buzzed Sam back into their bedroom. Hopefully, Dad was passed out from his latest round with Jose that would make it a lot easier.

When Sam did call, he was tight lipped about what happened, but had an all telling smirk on his face.

"You gotta give me something," Dean pushed. "Come on Sammy, I always share with you."

Sam pressed his forehead to the window. "I'm not saying nothing."

"I'm good at torture," Dean said. "You'd really make me resort to that?"

"I don't kiss an' tell," Sam giggled.

"How many beers you have?" Dean tried to change the line of question to get the answers he wanted.

"Two," Sam nodded.

"You're a girl," Dean stated. "Seriously, dude."

"How much did you drink the first time you went out?"

"A lot," Dean chuckled. "Like, they had to call Dad to come remove me from this girl's backyard because I puked over her railing and possibly on someone, but I don't really remember."

"You weren't afraid of ending up like Dad?" Sam pressed his head against the head rest and turned toward Dean. "I was afraid of drinking too much and ending up like Dad."

"Dad's, Sam, Dad's fine," Dean sighed. "Drinking one night at one party isn't going to make you go have a drink every night. You need to give him a break. He's doing the best he can."

"I know," Sam nodded. "He just drinks a lot. I don't want to be like that. A couple of the people at the party got like that, really, really drunk. I didn't want to be like that."

"Good," Dean replied. "That's good. You're responsible. I still wanna what happened with that girl.""

"Honestly," Sam sighed. "Nothin'. Not a damn thing. I mean, we hung out for a little bit at first, but then she started doing shots, and I didn't want to,and she was hangin' on me and I didn't really like it. So I hung out with my friends instead."

"You had fun though?" Dean asked.

"I did," Sam nodded. "I learned how to play beer pong. That was pretty fun."

They pulled into the driveway and Dean cut the engine. "If all goes right, Dad'll be asleep. If he's not, don't talk to him, just go to bed or he'll kill both of us, you got it?"

Sam nodded and popped the door open.

They snuck in, and went to bed, careful to keep their sleeping father sleeping. Dean stared at the ceiling listening to Sam fall asleep; his responsible baby brother, so different from himself. He wondered how much of their mother was in Sam. If Sam was more like her that he was. If she was the patient one, the one that could look at a situation and tell that it was probably a bad idea. She probably was, Sam was probably just like her. Some days Dean really missed her, milestone days like this was when it was the worst. He wished his mom was there to watch Sam blow out candles and gush about a girl. He liked to imagine how she smiled, tried to remember her laugh.

He turned onto his side and looked at Sam. "Happy birthday Little Buddy," Dean whispered into the darkness before closing his eyes and letting himself fall into a dreamless sleep.


	42. Chapter 42

"Dean!" Sam yelled the moment he stepped into the trailer the Tuesday after Sam's birthday.

"Sam?" Dean answered, one hand on the door knob, the other searching the waist band of his pants for the gun he kept there.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Come here. I gotta ask you something."

Dean stepped cautiously into the trailer, kicking the door shut with his foot, gun raised, his back pressed against the wall. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with one eyebrow raised and a facial expression that read "you're joking right?" without saying a word.

"Seriously?" Sam sighed.

"You don't just yell when someone enters a room," Dean explained, lowering the gun. "I thought you were hurt or something."

"You're a freak," Sam replied. "Like a giant weirdo freak."

"Whatever," Dean sighed shaking his head. "What do you want?"

"You know what I said Tiffany was in my Bio class?" Sam asked, eyes wide, squirming a little in his chair.

"The hot chick from the bowling alley?" Dean nodded, placing his gun on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "She my lab partner in for this new lab we're doing, and we were talkin' and stuff and she's reading _To Kill A Mockingbird_ in her English class, and that she hates it, but I told her that I've read it, like, five times. So she asked me if I would help her write her paper, and I said yeah sure. And she gave me her phone number and told me to call her if she could come over, and I was hoping that you'd say it was okay and she could like, come over for dinner or something and we could work on that lab report and her paper maybe?"

Dean stared blankly at Sam for a moment. "You gotta remember to breathe when you talk."

"Shut up," Sam grumbled. "Can she come over though?"

"Yeah sure," Dean shrugged. "Dad's not due home til, like, next Friday I think. We'll order pizza or something. You two can have your study date or whatever. I gotta pick her up?"

"No," Sam shook her head. "She has a car, but she lives, like, across the street from the bowling alley. That's why she didn't have it the other day."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "Go call her."

Sam jumped up and basically ran to the phone in the kitchen, dialing a number written in his biology notebook. Dean walked over to the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table, grinning to himself.

"Hey, umm," Sam said leaning close to Dean after getting off the phone. "Can you, like, take a shower or something? You're covered in auto shop grease and you smell."

"You just don't want me to embarrass me in front of your girlfriend," Dean smirked tapping Sam on the face.

"Not girlfriend," Sam clarified. "Lab partner."

"I thought you totally ditched this girl at that party?" Dean said standing up and peeling his t-shirt off, tossing it at Sam.

"She said that it was _sweet_ that I didn't take advantage of her being so drunk," Sam shrugged.

"Well," Dean said heading off toward the bathroom. "You're a good kid, you make good decisions."

"I gotta clean this place," Sam sighed before Dean closed the door to take a shower. "I gotta hide this stupid weaponry."

When Dean out of the shower, Sam was shoving a cross bow under the sofa as someone knocked on the door.

"Get rid of this," Sam said shoving the bow into Dean's chest. "And put some pants on, Dean, seriously."

"Yes, sir," Dean mock saluted.

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door. "Don't fuckin' embarrass me."

"I would never," Dean laughed as he walked into their bedroom.

He half listened as Sam let Tiffany in and showed her around their tiny home. He searched his duffle bag for a clean pair of pants and found a shirt that didn't smell too bad before coming out into the main room.

"So, Dean said he'd get us pizza or something," Sam was explaining.

"Okay," Tiffany nodded. "That sounds awesome."

Dean couldn't help but smile, Sam looked so nervous and all they were doing was homework. He was glad he had the confidence to talk to girls, but watching Sam was most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

"So… um… you wanna work on this lap report?" Sam asked brushing his hair from his face. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for her before taking his own. Dean chuckled to himself and flopped down in front of the TV.

"Let me know when you want that pizza," he called over his shoulder. "I'll go get it."

"Yeah, cool, thanks," Sam said quickly before going to back to talking over the biology lab with Tiffany.

* * *

Dean went out to grab the pizza about an hour later, he lingered at that pizza joint, giving Sammy some alone time with his girl. He picked up a six pack of coke at a convenient store before heading back to the trailer park, with his hands full, he couldn't open the door, so he knocked twice with his elbow, but no one came to the door.

"Open the door, Sam," Dean yelled. "Or I will throw the pizza off the railing before I open this and you won't have dinner."

Dean placed the soda on the ground and shoved the door open. He tossed the pizza boxes on the counter and turned back to grab the drinks off the porch. He slammed the door shut and scanned the room for Sam. His and Tiffany's books were still on the table, like they were when he left, but his brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam!" Dean called. "Pizza's here."

"Yeah cool," Sam's voice called from somewhere. "In a minute."

Dean looked around the trailer. He was expecting to catch Sam and Tiffany on the sofa, but they weren't there. He noticed the light was on in the bedroom, so he walked toward it. As he got closer he heard whispering, he knew he probably shouldn't interrupt, but it wasn't like they were having sex, so he turned the door knob and stuck his head inside. Sam and Tiffany were exploring each other's mouths experimentally. Dean didn't know much about this Biology project those two were supposedly working on, but he doubted this had anything to do with it.

"Dinner," he announced, wide grin on his face as watched Tiffany and Sam separated like they'd been burned. Sam's hand lingered on her waist as he glared across the room.

"I heard you," Sam hissed. "I said I'd be right there."

"Didn't hear _you_," Dean shrugged.

"Go away," Sam demanded.

"Pizzas getting cold," Dean smirked.

Sam glared until Dean laughed and backed out of the room.

Dean couldn't help chuckling to himself as he sat down on the couch with a piece of pizza and turned on the news. Sam stormed out of his room with Tiffany right behind him a few minutes later.

"I frickin' hate you," Sam whispered into Dean's ear as he walked by. "You're a frickin' jerk."

Dean turned and smirked, shrugging a little before turning back to the TV. Sam had walked in on worse, he'd get over it.

He half listened to Sam apologize a hundred times while he and Tiffany ate their dinner and worked on their lab report. Dean knew he should feel a little bad about breaking up their little make out session, but it _was_ his duty as the older one to sufficiently embarrass his brother at every possible moment.

* * *

When Tiffany left, Sam walked over and smacked Dean in the back of the head.

"I told you not to embarrass me!"

"I didn't know you were necking with your girl," Dean replied. "Shoulda answered me when I called out."

"I did!" Sam yelled. "Don't tell me you didn't hear me. You were just trying to embarrass me in front of her."

"No I wasn't," Dean sighed. "I'm sorry, alright. I didn't mean nothin' by it, alright. I was just messing around. You guys gonna go out again?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged. "I told her you were just a giant _dick_, and she seemed to understand. I think we're going to the skating rink this weekend."

Dean shook his head and turned back to the television. "Good for you. That's a little cheesy for me but whatever makes you happy. Just don't shut the door when you got girls in the room from now on. You know Dad doesn't like it."

"Dad's not here," Sam reminded him.

"If I can't do it, you can't do it," Dean replied. "I'm in charge when Dad's not around, remember that, cuz I don't gotta let you hang out with your friends."

"I can do whatever I want," Sam huffed. "You're not the boss of me, Dean. I'm an adult."

"No you're not," Dean yelled, turning around. "You're still a kid, and I'm in charge. So don't be a bitch or I'll ground you."

"You can't _ground_ me," Sam spat. "I didn't do anything."

"If you talked to Dad like that…" Dean started.

"I'm not talking to Dad," Sam interrupted. "I'm talking to my brother who isn't supposed to be a giant douche bag. You know I like her. You don't gotta be a freak and ruin it for me just because every girl you go with ends up being some weird slutty basket case. Tiffany's a nice girl and you're just totally jealous."

"Yeah," Dean rolled his eyes. "Super jealous of the jail bait my kid brother's chasing."

Sam started huffing and growing angrier as he stood behind Dean.

"You're just jealous cuz you can't even finish school," Sam yelled. "That you don't have a future and you'll never be anything except what _Dad_ wants you to be. You know that _I_ can do whatever I want because I'm _smarter_ than you. You can't let me be happy because you don't know how to be happy. You're just going to be a giant stupid, loser, asshole your whole life that can't think without asking Dad if it's okay to think that thought."

Dean took a deep breath and turned to look at his brother. "I get that you're pissed because I broke up your make out party, so I'm gonna let that pass, but if you like the way your face looks, don't ever say anything like that to me again."

"You're an asshole!" Sam yelled storming off to their room and slamming the door.

Dean grabbed a blanket off his Dad's bed and put it over himself on the couch for the night. He knew Sam would get over it, apologize for being a brat in the morning when he realized Dean didn't mean anything by he did. Dean would have felt horrible if he'd scared the girl off, but he hadn't. It may take a day, but it would blow over, all the stupid little fights that the brothers had blew over in a few days, a week at the most. All they really had was each other; it didn't make sense to be angry for no reason for very long.

* * *

In the morning Sam didn't say anything to Dean while he fixed himself breakfast, ripped the box of Lucky Charms out of Dean's hands.

"Dude," Dean sighed. "I said I was sorry, knock it off."

Sam didn't even acknowledge that Dean had spoken, just ate his cereal and stormed off to school.

"Grow up," Dean sighed to the slammed door as he got ready for work.

Around noon, Dean called the house and left a message, telling Sam that he wouldn't be back until after eight. He was asked to help with some last minute body work for a regular customer. Wanted Sam to fix himself something for dinner, Dean would take care of himself.

When Dean got home the trailer was dark and empty. The light on the answering machine was still blinking, clearly Sam hadn't been back. Dean didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He knew Sam was still upset that morning, probably was still a little pissed off, Sam had a tendency to do things like that, just hold on to anger when it was easier, smarter, to just let go. Dean usually shrugged it off as Sam was passionate. Told his dad Sam was sensitive, but right now, in that empty trailer with no note, no phone message except for the one he'd left, Sam was just being a dick.

Dean didn't know any of Sam's friends at school. John has told him over and over to get familiar with Sam's friends, but Dean hadn't done that since he's started high school. He wasn't really up to hanging around with little kids anymore. He couldn't call anyone, didn't even know anyone's name besides Tiffany, didn't know where anyone lived. John didn't think Sam was responsible enough for a cell phone, barely trusted Dean with one, so Dean had no way to get a hold of Sam. He didn't really mind if he didn't sleep there, but he could at least let Dean know he was alive.

Dean paced the trailer a couple times before searching their bedroom. Sam's duffle bag was gone, so he'd come home after school, Dean would have noticed if he left with it. All of Sam's school books, notebooks, and the small mountain of novels he'd been collecting were gone, the drawers of the dresser that came with trailer were empty. Sam's bed was neatly made, but the pillows were gone. Sam was gone.

Dean felt panic building like it did every time Sam was supposed to be in his eye line but wasn't. This wasn't fair; Dean hadn't even really _done_ anything to result in this. He'd opened a door to see his brother kissing a girl. Sam had done that, and worse, to him a million times and he'd never stormed off.

Dean sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the clock over the stove, it was just after ten, too late to really drive around aimlessly looking for this brother, especially when he had to be back in the shop at seven. He knew if he got in the car he wouldn't sleep, if he sat here he wouldn't sleep. But at least if he was here, he'd know if Sam came home or not. So he turned the chair so it faced the door an waited.

* * *

He woke with a jerk, neck stiff, at five thirty. Sam wasn't back, the bedroom door was still open, Sam would have closed it if he snuck in. Dean tried to breathe, but his chest was too tight. He'd stop by the school before it got out to see if Sam was there. That was all he could do, besides freaking out.

The work day dragged, his boss could tell he wasn't focused, almost messed up a simple oil change or a little old lady. If he didn't have someone looking over his shoulder he probably would have been fired by lunch time. He sat on picnic table with his value menu lunch next to him trying to figure out the phone number for the high school. When he finally got ahold of the school, the secretary wouldn't tell him if Sam was there. It took every bit of energy he had not to scream into the phone.

"What's up with you today?" his boss asked having enough to Dean's mistakes.

"My brother's missing," saying it made it real. Saying it meant that he'd failed. Failed at the most important job he'd ever been given.

"Whaddya mean missing?" his boss scoffed. "Like kidnapped?"

"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "He left for school yesterday and I haven't seen him since."

"He's fourteen, right?"

"Fifteen," Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Just some teenage hormone thing," his boss waved a hand at him. "He'll be back."

"He's never taken off like this before," Dean replied. "He's just gone. No note, didn't leave a message telling me he's okay. I mean, if he's going to be gone, he doesn't gotta tell me where he is, just tell me he's alive."

"You're freaking about nothing," his boss said. "Get your head in the game, or I don't need you here."

"If I leave can I come back tomorrow?" Dean asked softly. "I gotta find Sam. I gotta find Sam before my dad gets back."

"Yeah," his boss nodded. "But you've gotta be all here, or you I don't want you. Understand?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll find him, and I'll be here tomorrow all good. I swear."

* * *

"I'm here to pick up Sam Winchester," Dean told the office lady when he got to the school. "I'm his brother, we gotta family emergency."

"You know what class he's in?" the woman asked.

"No," Dean replied.

"Well how am I supposed to find him?" the woman spat back.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "I just need my brother."

"You know his homeroom?" the woman sighed.

"No," Dean answered. "Wait, no, the geometry teacher, with the strange facial hair. Sammy makes fun of him."

The woman sighed and started to click at her computer. "He's wasn't in homeroom today."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, leaning over the counter. "What you mean he wasn't in homeroom kid hasn't missed a day of school since daycare."

"According to this," the woman motioned at her monitor. "Sam Winchester was marked absent. He ain't here."

"There's a mistake," Dean replied.

The woman rolled her eyes and pulled out a pile of manila envelopes from a milk crate next to her. She pulled a piece of paper out of one and shoved it in Dean's face.

"See, marked absent. He ain't here."

"Then where the hell is he?" Dean asked mostly to himself.

"Ain't my department kid," The woman sat back down in her chair.

"Can I talk to his friends?" Dean asked. "Tiffany Phillips, she might know where he is."

"No," the woman replied. "I can't just call random people down here because your brother skipped school."

"You've been helpful," Dean scoffed turning and leaving the building.

He drove around town aimlessly, stopping at every place Dean figured Sam would go, the library, the comic book story, the bowling alley, the arcade, nothing. He only had a four year old picture of his brother to show people, and Sam had changed a whole hell of a lot since he was eleven. So he went home, and did the same thing the next day, checking the library, the bookstore, the grocery store anything, everything.

And every night, Dean would come home and sit in front of the door in the kitchen chair not sleeping hoping that front door would open and Sam would come home. He kept trying the school. Apparently, Sam had sent in some forged doctor's note, but the secretary wouldn't tell him who was bringing Sam he work, wouldn't tell him anything. But at least he knew Sam wasn't dead, couldn't be if he was turning in his work. Dean sat in front of the school hoping Tiffany would walk by, but she didn't. He idled by the skating rink Saturday hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother on his date, but neither Sam nor Tiffany showed. He started to worry about what would happen when their dad got back, how horrible that would be. He was nineteen years old, had one thing to do for the last fifteen years and he failed, outright failed at keeping his brother safe.

He got his answer a week and half after Sam disappeared. The headlights shining through the kitchen window could only mean one thing. He was dead.


	43. Chapter 43

_AN: For this Chapter I'm pulling from the look on Dean's face in Dark Side of the Moon when he was talking to Sam in that little shack Sam ran away to. It's gets kind of intense, I hope you like it._

* * *

Dean took a deep breath as the doorknob turned; this was going to get bad. Maybe he could lie about where Sam was for a couple days. Say he was at a friends or something, buy him some time he could find him if he had a little bit more time.

"Hey," John said dropping his duffle back hard on the floor. "How's it been?"

"Fine," Dean coughed. "How was the hunt? Easy as you figured?"

"Yeah," John nodded walking to the fridge. "Lore was a little off, but easy enough to figure out. You have dinner already?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean answered. He was so nervous; he knew his dad could tell.

"Where's Sammy?" John looked around the trailer. "It's too quiet in here."

"Sam's um… Sam's…" Dean stuttered. What was the answer? Sam's gone? Sam might be dead? I haven't seen Sam in a week and half? "Sam's…"

"You let him go out with his friends?" John rolled his eyes.

Dean nodded. "Didn't want me to tell you. Didn't want you to get mad."

John shrugged. "I'm gonna order some Chinese, you want any?"

Dean shook his head. "No, Dad, I'm good, thanks."

Dean put his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands. He was so screwed. He had to find Sam the next day, he _had_ to or he'd be fertilizing a rose garden.

"What's up with you?" John asked. "Girl trouble?"

"Something like that," Dean nodded.

"Courtney?" John asked "Cory?"

"Cassandra," Dean corrected. She was the sister of a co-worker, they met when she was on spring break from UCLA, it wasn't really worth mentioning, but she'd shown up at the trailer a couple times. "No, she went back to California a few weeks ago. Sam's got this chick he's sweet on though. It's weird."

"You talked to him, right?" John asked seriously. "He knows about girls?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.

"He at the girl's place now?" John asked.

"No," Dean shook his head. "No, he, ah, he said he was going to friends, track team thing I think. I wasn't really paying attention to be honest, sir."

He knew he should quit while he was ahead, the deeper he dug the hole the further down he'd end up buried in the end. He'd been looking for over a week, nothing he could think of gave him hope he'd find the kid tomorrow.

"I'll be back in a few," John said standing up. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's hard watchin' 'em grow up, but you just gotta let him do his own thing. Let him make his own mistakes. That's what Bobby said to me when you started seein' that girl in Idaho when you were Sam's age. He'll be fine. Gots a good head on his shoulders."

John turned and walked out the door. Dean sighed; he felt warm tears on the side of his face. He was _so fucking screwed_.

* * *

For the first night since Sam disappeared, Dean slept in their room. Slept isn't the right word, more like stared at the ceiling waiting for it to be late enough to leave and pretend he was going to work without looking suspicious. He drove around like he had been for the last week and half. Checking the hangouts, looking for abandoned buildings, no sign of Sam anywhere. He waited outside the school again, watching the parking lot for Tiffany. When he saw her, he got so excited he forgot what he was waiting for. He ran across the parking lot, slamming her driver's side door shut as she opened.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded. "And blow don't smoke up my ass, Tiffany, this is serious. Where's my brother?"

"I don't know," Tiffany replied trying to open the door.

"I'm not playing games, Tiffany," Dean said. "It's not funny anymore, our dad's home and he's gonna kill me unless I find him."

"Sounds like a personal problem," Tiffany said placing her hands on her hips. "Get out of my way before I scream."

"I just want to know if he's alive," Dean said.

"Don't be over dramatic," Tiffany sighed. "He doesn't want to go home, alright. Get out of my way."

"Tell him to call," Dean said. "Just tell him Dad's home. I'm sure he's told you about our dad. Tell him I can only cover for him for another day at the most before he starts seeing right through the bullshit. Tell him to call, leave a message, make up something if he doesn't wanna come home. Just tell him to get in contact with us."

"Move," Tiffany said shoving his arm away from her car.

* * *

Dean when home after his confrontation with Tiffany parked the Impala next to his Dad's truck. He knew his clothes were too clean to pass for working all day, but hopefully his dad wouldn't notice. He opened the door and saw his Dad drinking a beer in front of the television. So far so good.

"So," John said when the door closed. "I stopped by the shop you were working at to bring you some lunch and the owner said you hadn't shown up for work in over a week. Care to explain that?"

"Not really," Dean chuckled.

"Funny cuz the owner said that you cut out after lunch a week and a half ago saying your brother was missing," John replied.

Dean sighed and banged the back of his head against the door.

"Wanna explain _that_?"

"Not really," Dean answered.

"Where's Sam," John demanded turning around.

"I… I don't know…" Dean mumbled to the floor.

"A little louder," John said.

"We got in a fight cuz I made fun of him kissing his little girlfriend," Dean explained. "Then the next day I was late getting home from work, but I left a message telling him to eat dinner, I'd take care of myself. When I got home he wasn't here and all his stuff was gone. I figured he was just mad. The next day I went to the school, tried to get him out early but they said he didn't show up. And I can't find him. And I came back here and I noticed that the envelope that I keep the emergency money in was empty."

"When was that?" John asked.

"Wednesday after you left," Dean mumbled.

"A fucking week and half?" John said, standing up. "He's been missing for a week and half and you _lied_ about it."

"I didn't want you to get mad," Dean said trying to back up, but he was right up against the door.

"Too late," John said.

Dean wasn't that much shorter than his father, maybe an inch, if that, but right now Dean felt tiny; like he hadn't since he was a little kid, long before John put a shotgun in his hand. He felt like that five year old that accidently spilled chocolate milk on a motel carpet and spanked him until back side was raw. Usually his dad was all bark, but right now, that look in his eyes he was ready to bite, and Dean was frozen, suck against that door with no escape.

"How much money was missing?" John growled.

"Only like forty bucks," Dean answered. He was afraid to look at his father but he was afraid to break eye contact.

"Enough for a bus ticket?" John was right up in Dean's space, breathing his air. "So he could be anywhere. Your little brother, the only person who _gives a shit_ about you could be _anywhere_ and you _lied_ to me about it instead of calling me the second you noticed he was missing so I could find him."

"I didn't… I didn't… I didn't want you got get mad," Dean stammered. "I just… I don't know… I thought I could find him."

"Well," John laughed. "Clearly you're a fucking failure at that too. You have _one_ job Dean. You've been in charge of _one_ fucking thing your whole life, and you let it walk out the door and disappear. How fuckin' hard is it to keep track of a fifteen year old who whacks off to a physics book for fun?"

"I'm sorry," Dean said trying his damnedest not to cry. He couldn't cry in front of his dad. That was the worst possible thing he could ever do. "I didn't mean to. It was a joke. I didn't mean to piss him off. I thought he'd come home. I'm sorry. He's seen worse, I mean like they were just kissing, it's not like they were fucking and he had to know I was gonna open that door. I mean, like, he's known me his whole life he shoulda known…"

"Shut up!" John yelled slamming his fist against the wall next to Dean's face. Dean closed his eyes and pulled away. "I don't want an excuse I want you to find your fucking brother."

"I've looked everywhere," Dean mumbled. "Everywhere, shown his picture to shop owners bothered the few friends I know he has. I can't find him sir."

"Obviously," John growled low right against Dean's ear. "You didn't look hard enough."

"I did though," Dean answered nodding. "I swear to God, I did. I looked everywhere, old abandoned buildings, the library. I broke into the library at night and searched it, just to make sure he wasn't sleeping there. I don't know where he is."

"He could be dead," John slammed his hand against the wall again. "And you don't know where he is. You have _one job_ Dean! One fucking job your whole shitty life."

"I'm sorry," Dean was shaking, trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard stand up to his dad, convince him that he'd done his best, but he couldn't. He was that little boy terrified that his dad was going hit him. It was be easier if his dad just hit him. "I know I did it wrong, but I didn't… I didn't think he'd never come back. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll find him. I'll find him."

"You'd better find him," John said softly. "He could be anywhere. Literally anywhere. Could have caught a bus outta town. You call Bobby?"

Dean shook his head.

"Well start there you stupid son of bitch," John said adjusting the collar of Dean's shirt. "You ain't sleeping or eating to you find him."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded. John stepped aside to let Dean run off toward the phone.

His hands shook as he dialed the phone, holding back tears he couldn't let fall in front of John, tears that he couldn't let Bobby hear.

"Singer," the voice on the under end of the line sighed.

"Bobby?" Dean's voice broke; he cleared his throat and tried again. "Bobby, its Dean."

"What's wrong boy?" Bobby asked. "Everyone okay?"

"I… I…" Dean cleared his throat again. "Has Sammy called you? I… he… I can't find him."

"Dean," Bobby sighed sympathetically into the phone. "When did he… when's the last time you saw him."

"The sixth," Dean answered. "He left for school and never came home."

"When's your Daddy due home?"

"He's standing behind me," Dean replied.

"Dean." He could hear Bobby running a hand down his face while the thought about what to do. "Have you looked for him?"

"Everywhere," Dean answered, suddenly unable to hold back the waterworks. "Everywhere twice, and then all the places I didn't think he'd be. I screwed up, Uncle Bobby. I screwed up really bad."

"Where are you?"

"Arizona," Dean answered wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Flagstaff."

"It's gonna take about a day for me to get there, okay?" Bobby said. "But I'm leavin' as soon as I hang up this phone. I'll be there as soon as I can. We'll find him."

Dean nodded a few times before remembering that he was on the phone. "Okay."

"Keep your head up, kiddo," Bobby said softly. "You did what you could. I know that. Don't let your daddy tell you different. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "Okay." Bobby's end of the line went dead, and Dean slowly hung up his end.

"So," John pressed.

"Bobby's on his way," Dean mumbled. "Be here in about a day."

"Wipe those tears," John growled. "You don't deserve to be cryin' them."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and wiped his face the best he could. "I'm sorry."

John was back up in his space again. "You're not sorry. You're irresponsible and lazy. You think you can do the job I do? You think you have what it takes to be a hunter? You can't keep track of your kid brother! Didn't have what it takes to finish high school."

"I missed two months of school in a fuckin' coma," Dean defended. "Another month and a half in rehab."

"Don't talk back to me," John's hand was in Dean's face. "And don't use that kind of language in front me. You don't got any excuses. You don't get a do over for this one. You're just a stupid as I always thought you were. Just as _stupid _as all those teachers I sat and defended you in front of, tellin' them you weren't dumb you were just a little slow had difficultly comprehending. It's got nothin' to do with that does it, Dean. You're just a fuckin' moron aren't you?"

Dean sucked in a breath. "Yes, sir."

"Imagine if your mom could see you," John laughed. "Little boy all grown up, fuckin' high school dropout piece of shit loser who can't babysit a fifteen year old for a week. You think she'd be proud of what you've made of yourself?"

Dean shook his head, eyes glued to the floor. "No, sir, I don't think she would."

"You're a loser," John said, finally backing away. "You're a piece of shit loser. Get out there and find your fucking brother. Don't bother coming back here til you got him. And don't for a second think you're taking _my_ car anywhere."

Dean fished the keys out of his pocket and placed them on the table. He took a deep breath and looked his father in the eye.

"Get the fuck out of my sight," John growled.

Dean nodded and walked out the door, determined as ever to find that kid, prove his dad wrong; prove he was worth something. He didn't know where to look, he'd already looked everywhere, so he just walked through the park, hoping something would pop out to him, but nothing did. He found his way back to their trailer, but he knew he couldn't dare go inside. So he laid down in the back of his dad's pick up, using his jacket as a pillow and let himself cry until he fell asleep.

* * *

He woke up because his head hit the open tailgate on the way to the ground.

"The fuck?" Dean moaned, head pounding, his father standing over him.

"This is how you look for Sam?" John asked. "This is what you've been doing for the last two weeks?"

"No," Dean shook his head, trying to push himself up off the ground. "No, I looked all night. I just got back."

"Right," John scoffed. "Get up."

Dean did his best. Tried to push up, but he head was pounding, bleeding from a cut on his temple. He knew he had a concussion, a bad one if he had to guess. He struggled to his feet and leaned against the truck.

"Let's go," John demanded. "Start walking, you lost him; you find him."

Dean felt like he was going to puke, started to take deep breaths, his vision going blurry and back to normal over and over. He heard a car pull up, old beat up two doors, one of Bobby's cars. He'd made the twenty hour drive in fifteen, must have worried.

"What's up?" Bobby said, jumping out of the car and walking over. "What happened to Dean's head?"

"He lost Sam," John answered.

"So you hit him?" Bobby accused.

"I fell," Dean answered, and then started dry heaving, bent over double beside the car.

"I'm sure you did," Bobby said skeptically. "Have _you_ looked for Sam? Cuz I believe that boy when he says he scoured this town. He cares about his brother more than he cares about himself. If Sammy doesn't wanna be found, you ain't gonna find him, you gotta let him come back. Dean didn't do nothing wrong."

"He's been gone for over a week, Bobby," John replied. "It's _Dean's_ job to watch out for him."

"No, John," Bobby said, getting right into his face. "It's not."

This was the first time Dean had ever seen anyone stand up to his dad; give back to him what he was so good at giving out. Dean sat down at the tailgate, too dizzy to stay upright; he definitely had a concussion.

"You're the parent here, John," Bobby continued. "You're the one who's supposed to be watching those boys, not dumping them at some trailer park in the middle of Arizona while you run off God knows where and leave Dean in charge. You've been dragging those boys all over everywhere, pullin' them out of school at your whims. No wonder that boy ran off. The only thing surprising here is _Dean_ hasn't taken off and took Sam with him somewhere. But from the look on his face, that boy's too afraid of you to piss without asking first."

"You don't know a damn thing," John said, right in Bobby's face like he was Dean's the night before. "You don't got a family Bobby, you don't know what's best. They ain't your kids. You don't get to tell me how to raise 'em. And that boy," John pointed at Dean. "Is the reason Sam's gone. Not me."

"Keep tellin' yourself that," Bobby said backing up. He walked over to Dean and pulled him up. "Come one, buddy, I'll go with you. It's the weekend, so maybe we'll be able to flush him out."

Dean nodded, let Bobby pull him up, let Bobby put him in the passenger's side of his car; left his Dad standing in the front yard.

* * *

"Let's start at the beginning, okay?" Bobby said as they left the park. "Where would Sam go?"

"The library," Dean answered forehead pressed against the window. "But I've checked the library almost every day."

"Alright?" Bobby replied. "You show the librarian a picture?"

"I only got this one," Dean pulled his wallet out of his pocket, showed Bobby Sam's sixth grade school picture. "I don't got a more recent one."

"I do," Bobby said. "Got one of you boys we took a Christmas. That'll help. We'll find him, Dean."

"Okay," Dean nodded.

They hit all the spots that Dean had been to so many times in the last week, but with the updated picture, people recognized him. Librarian said Sam had been in a few times, was there the night before for a while, so at least Dean could breathe a sigh of relief that Sam hadn't got himself killed. The guy at the bowling alley hadn't seen him, but the skating rink guy said Sam and cute brunette had been there the previous weekend. The pizza place up the road from there had seen him multiple times, which made Dean want to jump the counter, because he'd shown that stupid asshole Sam's picture a hundred times in the last ten days.

"I delivered to this kid once," the punk behind the counter at the pizza place said holding the picture Bobby had in his hand.

"I've been here every day askin' if you've seen him and you told me you hadn't," Dean growled. Bobby pushed him back by the chest.

"You were showin' me that picture of some little boy," the guy scoffed. "This teenager though, I've seen this teenager."

"Where did you deliver to?" Bobby asked.

"Weirdest thing," the guy laughed. "I thought the place was abandoned, but apparently there's a cute young couple livin' there; that guy and his girlfriend."

"Where," Dean demanded. The guy scribbled and address down on a napkin, gave a quick set of directions and they were on the road again.

"I never headed this far out," Dean said as they pulled down a dirt road. "I didn't know there was anything out here."

"Locals know the best spots, kid," Bobby answered as they pulled in front of rundown seemingly abandoned house.

"That's Tiffany's car," Dean sighed. "I shoulda fuckin' followed her."

"You did the best you could," Bobby replied.

"You've been looking for three hours," Dean said punching the dashboard. "I've been looking for _ten days_ and I couldn't find him."

"It's okay," Bobby said placing a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna stay here?"

"I don't…"Dean sighed. "I have a headache, and I'm gonna kill him, so it's probably for the best, I guess."

"I'll be right back," Bobby popped the door open, gave Dean one last sad look before walking toward the house. Dean let his head fall back against the head rest. He should have called Bobby right off. He should have been smart about this. If he'd been smarter about this, if he wasn't such a moron he would have found Sam a week ago. Bobby came out of the house shoving Sam in front of him, Sam's duffle bag in his hand, a random golden retriever barking behind them.

"What about my dog?" Sam whined as Bobby pushed him into the back seat.

"Ain't your dog, boy," Bobby answered, climbing into the front seat. "That girl will take care of it."

"What happened to your face?" Sam asked Dean when he turned to look at him.

"You ran away," Dean answered. "You took off and dad came home, that's what _happened_ to my face."

"Dean," Bobby said in a warning tone. "Let's just get him home."

"All you had to do was call, Sammy," Dean said turning and facing forward, staring out the windshield. "All you had to do was call and leave a fuckin' message and everything would be fine."

* * *

When they got back to the trailer, John was packing up their things.

"You have twenty minutes," John said the moment Dean stepped out of the car. "Pack up your crap and get ready to go."

"There's like two weeks left of school!" Sam sighed. "That's not fair Dad."

John took a step toward Sam, but Bobby stepped forward. "You took off, dipshit. You don' get a say."

"You can't pull him outta school two weeks before finals," Bobby said calmly. Dean walked into the trailer to pack up his things while they fought outside.

He was still dizzy from his fall off the truck, his head still pounding. He felt like he'd wasted the last two weeks, like he was worthless. Bobby found his brother in three hours. He collected his books, the ones that Sam given him, the old fire truck the he always place on the dresser no matter where they were living. The only thing he had of a happier time, a normal time. There was a wheel missing, the ladder was broken off, but he kept it. He shoved it in his bag with everything else. He collected the framed photos of his mom from around the house, there were only a couple, but Dad seemed to forget about them when he was packing up. Dean had to go around and get them keep them for Sammy so he'd know what she'd look like. His duffle bag wasn't even half full. His whole life was half a duffle bag. His whole worthless life.

Sam came in, pissed, stormed into their room.

"We're not leaving," he screamed. "I'm not leaving til school is over and that jack ass can't make me."

"Maybe you should learn to use a phone," Dean said softly. "And none of this would be happening."

"Maybe you shouldn't be a huge prick," Sam spat back.

"I didn't do anything to you Sammy," Dean said, letting out a half laugh as he followed Sam into the room. "Whatever you _think_ I did, man, I'm sorry. But I didn't deserve this. Maybe, _maybe_ Dad deserves some of this wrath or whatever, but I didn't do anything. Don't take it out on me."

"Whatever," Sam said. "I'm not leaving."

Dean sat down on his bed and placed his head in his hands, Bobby and his dad were still fighting outside, Sam was pissed, he knew all this was his fault. If he'd been smarter, called someone when Sam didn't come home from school none of this would have happened. If he'd only done better.

* * *

_AN: I hope this was alright, just judging from Dean's face in that one scene he looked terrified. I wanted to make John scary without doing too much. I hope this worked._


	44. Chapter 44

John paced the trailer the next morning, Dean could tell he was trying not to yell, he'd done a lot of yelling since they'd woken up, but both boys knew that John wasn't done being mad, he was never done being mad.

"I gotta gig in New Haven, Connecticut and I'm taking those boys," John said.

"You'll be fine without them," Bobby replied. "You've done it without them before."

"It's a long job," John sighed. "Gonna take at least a month. I'm not letting them stay here."

"When Sam's done with school," Bobby said calmly. "I'll take 'em north."

"I want Dean as back up," John said. "And I ain't leavin' Sammy alone. Sammy can't be trusted."

"From what I understand," Bobby said. "You think Dean's the worst hunter you've been with. What's it worth having back up you can't trust? You can take it alone, John. I'll be here with the boys. You've taken on bigger cases."

"I want my boys with me," John demanded. "They ain't yours. You don't make decisions for them."

"Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you wacked Dean's head off the side of your truck and gave him a concussion," Bobby replied. "Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you made a nineteen year old boy feel like he was a worthless piece of shit because your fifteen year old ran away to play house with his girlfriend for a week. What Sam did was _Sam's_ fault, not Dean's and until you get that, those boys ain't going nowhere alone with you. And you ain't pulling Sammy outta school. Go take care of your job in Connecticut. Meet us back at my place when you're done. I can take care of these boys, I've done it before."

"This is bull," John slammed his hand on the counter. "I can take care of my boys without you."

"If Mary was here," Bobby said standing up and turning toward John. "If their mom was here, would you treat these boys like you do now? Would Mary let you treat Dean like a piece of garage? Cuz from what I've heard about her, she'd kill ya if she knew how you treat these boys. So you go, shoot something in Connecticut, cool off, and then meet me and those boys back in North Dakota."

"Those boys do as _I_ say," John yelled.

"You don't intimidate me John," Bobby said. "I'm not a scared kid. I see right through you. Go cool off. I'll take care of your boys."

Dean kept his eyes glued to the floor, knowing that his dad would be looking to him to come to his defense. Dean didn't want to be part of this. He finally looked up when the door slammed. His dad was gone and Bobby was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking as exhausted as Dean felt.

"How's your head?" Bobby asked.

"I still gotta headache," Dean mumbled. "But my ears aren't ringing, so I guess it's better."

"Good," Bobby nodded. "How about you get Sammy, I'll make ya some breakfast."

"I don't think he wants to talk to me," Dean mumbled. "I mean, like, I think he's still mad at me."

"He'll get over it," Bobby nodded. So Dean followed his orders, like he was supposed to.

Sam had his nose in a book as like usual, trying his best to block out everything. Dean stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame for minute or so before Sam decided to respond.

"Where's dad?" Sam asked not looking up from his book.

"Left," Dean answered.

"But I can't leave?" Sam chuckled. "Seems far."

"He wanted to take you with him," Dean sighed. "Bobby's here so that _you_ can stay here til school gets out, then were going to his place. Dad's gonna meet us there. Come out to the kitchen, Bobby's make us breakfast."

"Not hungry," Sam replied.

"Just," Dean closed his eyes and let out a long exhale. "Just come out and eat breakfast. Bobby probably wants to talk to you. Just… just do what he says."

"You're not the boss of me, Dean," Sam spat, finally lowering his book. "You don't get to tell me what do to, and neither does Bobby."

"Look, Sammy," Dean said running a hand down his face. "Sam, just… just stop. Stop being a pain in the ass for twenty minutes and sit out there and eat breakfast with me and Bobby. Let's just try and get past this. Okay?"

"Whatever," Sam rolled his eyes as he got up and pushed passed Dean into the living room.

Bobby made French toast; put a small pile in front of each of the boys before sitting down himself.

"Can I go to my friend's house?" Sam asked.

"Fuck no," Dean replied glaring at his brother. "You just spent two weeks playing house with your _lab partner_. You're not going anywhere."

Sam rolled his eyes and looked to Bobby. "I don't wanna be here. I don't want to be in this stupid trailer."

"What did I do to you?" Dean slammed his fist on the table. "I didn't… I was just being a good brother. I was looking out for you."

"You're a dick, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes hard again. "You know what you did. You didn't have to do what you did."

"I opened the door while you were making out with a girl," Dean sighed. "How many times have you walked in on me with a girl? You've seen a whole hell of a lot more of me than I saw."

"You're missing the whole fuckin' point," Sam sighed. "It's the principle, Dean. You knew I was doing and ruined it."

"I didn't _ruin_ it," Dean sighed. "And I said I was fucking sorry man. Alright? I said I was sorry."

"You tellin' me," Bobby interjected. "That you decided to take off because Dean spied on you kissin' a girl? Instead of punchin' him or yellin' or givin' him the silent treatment like you did when you were little you _ran away_? "

"When you say it like that it sounds dumb," Sam answered. "There was more to it. Dad was being a dick, he thinks he can hold me under this thumb, and Dean doesn't, like, give a shit about privacy, and I'm trapped. Can I go to my friend's house?"

"If you leave," Bobby said with a mouth full of French toast, "You are to be back here at five o'clock. You any later than five, I will find ya and hand cuff you to the trailer. And I will drive you back and forth to school, and I will wait outside for ya all day. I ain't your Daddy, so I can't say no, but I'm the closest thing you got right now. If you fuck this up, Sammy, you'll regret it. Understand me?"

"Bobby you can't just…" Dean interjected but Bobby held a hand up to stop him.

"You understand, Sam?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I understand."

"Eat your breakfast," Bobby said. "Then you can go out."

* * *

"The fuck," Dean said the second the door slammed behind his brother. "We're never gonna see him again. I sent a week and a half lookin' for him got my ass reamed out, was told I was less than shit because I let him walk out the door and you're just… you're… you…"

"Dean," Bobby said calmly. "If you don't give him a little bit of rope, he'll end up hating ya. You want Sam to hate ya?"

"No, but I want him to come back," Dean felt those tears coming back, those tears he wasn't supposed to cry. "What if you just let him walk out that door and he doesn't come back? That's my brother, Bobby. I can't… I can't just let him walk away."

"He'll be back," Bobby said knowingly. "He knows he did wrong. He knows that if your daddy was here, he'd be locked in that bed room, or in the back of that car driving to Connecticut. He ain't about to yank my chain til it breaks."

"But what if he does?" Dean asked. "What if he…"

"Don't 'what if' it, Boy," Bobby said, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "He'll be home."

Dean nodded and pushed back his chair. He collected the plates of the table and washed the dishes, cleaned the counters, put away the milk and eggs, then sat down on the couch. He ran his fingers down the remote but didn't turn on the TV, just stared at the blank screen.

Bobby sat down in the recliner next to him; put his feet up on the coffee table.

"How you doing?" Bobby asked.

"I told you," Dean sighed. "Still gotta headache, but my ears stopped ringing. You sure you didn't hit _your_ head?"

"That's not what I mean," Bobby said. "I don't know _what_ your Dad said to you when I wasn't here, but I doubt it was very nice."

"You wanna have a feelings talk?" Dean sighed. "Is that why you let Sammy take off?"

"Dean," Bobby sighed.

"I don't wanna do this," Dean shook his head. "I'm not playing some touchy-feely you know you're old man was just mad, didn't mean what he said. Cuz he did. I know he did, you know he did, everyone knows he did. You don't gotta sit there and lie to me and try to tell me I'm some secret genius trapped by a disability. Cuz that ain't true. I couldn't hack high school cuz I'm stupid. I only stayed as long as I did for Sammy. I wanted to be a good example, but… but apparently he doesn't care about me either."

"You're not stupid, Dean." Bobby replied. "You're the only one who has _ever_ thought you were. You're smarter than most people I know. It just takes you a little bit longer to get it. You've got something, Dean. Something a lotta people don't got."

"What?" Dean huffed a laugh. "You say heart, Bobby, I swear to God."

"There's…" Bobby sighed. "There's a school up by my place, community college…"

"You can't go to college if you don't graduated high school," Dean interrupted.

"There's this community college in Sioux Falls," Bobby said forcefully. "Has GED classes over the summer. You can take the test, get your equivalency."

"That cost money," Dean said. "Money something I don't got."

"I can take care of it," Bobby said. "You're a kid, you don't need to worry about money. You can do some jobs for me 'round the yard if you're that's concerned about it. You want your dad to hold the fact you didn't graduate over your head your whole life? Or you wanna do something about it?"

"Do something about it," Dean mumbled.

"Right, so instead of hunting over the summer, why don't you take the classes?" Bobby suggested. "It won't be all day you'll have time to hang out with whatever friends you got or just be a kid in town or whatever it is you do when you're livin' with me. I've looked into it; they can modify the test to fit with dyslexia."

"So they have a retard test?" Dean chuckled. "Just what I need, Bobby, the dumbed down version of a test for people who were too stupid to finish high school in the first place."

"No, Dean," Bobby sighed. Dean could tell he was trying not to get mad, trying not to yell at him. "That's not what I said. You're not stupid, you learn differently."

"You know," Dean shook his head. "I'm too old to believe all those lies you tell kids to make them feel better. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny didn't forget that we moved, babies don't come from seeds, I didn't get held back in fourth grade because we move around too much, and I'm not some genius trapped in my own head by a learning disability. I don't _learn differently._ I'm a glorified idiot, Bobby, just like I've been told every day of my life. What's the point of trying to fix it now?"

"You're a nineteen year old kid with his whole life ahead of him," Bobby said patiently. "You don't gotta be trapped in what your daddy thinks you can do. Cuz your daddy, as good a man as he is, don't know what he's doin' to you boys. He's got Sam so wrapped up that he can't stand to be in the same room as him. He's got you so convinced you're worthless you won't try. You're not worthless, Dean. You're not. You're… you can do great things. Whether you decided to stay a hunter or you move on and do your own thing, you'll be great at it."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Dean laughed sadly.

"Dean," Bobby said seriously. "If your mother was sitting in this room asking you to suck it up and take the GED test would you do it?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

"If your mom told you what I just told you would you believe her?" Bobby continued.

"My mom isn't here," Dean replied. "She's never going to be here. If she was I wouldn't in this stupid situation in the first place. Sam wouldn't have run off, Dad wouldn't be a revenge driven crazy person, it would be different Bobby. So imagining her here is pointless, you change that one event, you change everything."

"You're missing my point, Dean," Bobby sighed.

"Then say it _real slow_," Dean kicked the coffee table. "So maybe I can get it this time."

"What I'm saying," Bobby sighed. "Is live your life to make her proud. Do what you'd think would make her proud of you. Do you think she'd be proud of you right now? I think she'd smack in the back of the head and tell you to stop bein' such an idjit and get your equivalency. She'd tell you to stop blaming yourself for everything cuz not everythin' in your fault. You don't gotta carry it all, Dean. And your Dad shouldn't be makin' you feel like it is."

"I'll take the stupid test," Dean sighed. "But I'm only takin' it once. If I fail it, I get to just be stupid. It's not like I'm going to get a real job or nothing. I just wanna be a hunter. I want to find what got mom."

"I understand that," Bobby nodded. "I'll only press for you to try it once, but I want you to try. I want to see you studying. I want to see you trying. If you gotta ask your brother for help with something, I'm sure he will. If you don't want Sam's help, you ask me. You can do this, Dean. You're a bright kid. Even if you can't see it yourself."

"I'll try," Dean said. "I'll do my best."

"That's all I'm asking for," Bobby smiled.

Dean leaned back and turned on the TV. Dean and Bobby turned back to watch the baseball game Dean settled on. It wouldn't be the last time Dean had this fight with someone, he knew that. But maybe if he had that piece of paper he wouldn't feel quite so useless. Bobby usually knew what he was talking about. Dean knew it wasn't good to feel so horrible about himself, wasn't healthy, but when that's all he really heard, it was hard to be in any other head space. Dean was going to try. He would make someone proud of him. He'd be someone worth being proud of.


	45. Chapter 45

_AN: Okay, so in this chapter there is a character that Dean mentioned meeting when he was 19 that I've added into here and kind of just did what I wanted with her. When I got to this year in the story I knew I wanted to use her. She probably doesn't fit the expectations that most people had for her, butI hope this is alright. _

* * *

They left for North Dakota the day after Sam's last final. Sam, of course, wouldn't go without making a scene, but Bobby made it pretty clear that it was go in the Impala willingly or go in the trunk of his junker unwillingly. Dean had been signed up for the GED classes which started the last week of June. Apparently, Bobby had signed him up before he came down to Arizona, like he always knew the boys would end up staying with him that summer. Bobby tossed a big thick book about studying for this test shortly after Dean had settled himself on the couch when they got to the salvage yard.

"Start reading," Bobby smiled before turning and walking away.

"Dean didn't do homework when he was in school," Sam laughed. "What makes you think he'll even try now?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean warned. "No one asked your opinion."

"Can I go downtown?" Sam asked rolling his eyes.

"No," Dean answered.

"Not in charge," Sam groaned, following Bobby into the kitchen.

Dean started to flip through the book, he figured he's had a decent grasp on the math part, he was pretty good at math, science wouldn't be too hard, but the history and language arts part, those parts were going to suck. He sighed and turned to the back where there were some example questions. He read through them a couple times before deciding that this was a horrible idea. He pushed himself up to see if Bobby would be able to talk him through some of this nonsense.

"You can't control me, you're not my Dad!" Sam yelled from the kitchen as Dean entered it. Sam pushed by Dean to storm up the stairs.

"He's like a girl on her period," Dean said, raising one eyebrow as he walked toward Bobby. "Only it never ends."

"What do you want, Dean," Bobby sighed. Dean figured that Sam's outburst was the end of an argument. Bobby's expression looked a lot like how Dean felt when he had arguments with his brother.

"I need…" Dean sighed. "I don't think I can do this." Dean dropped the GED book on the table. "I mean, I can do the math part, I can definitely do the math part, but the rest of it, I don't know."

Bobby leaned back against the sink. "What do you need?" he asked. "What makes it easier?"

"Nothin' makes it_ easier_," Dean shook his head. "It's never… it doesn't get easier."

"I remember you strugglin' a little bit when you were in grade school," Bobby replied. "But you always figured it out. How did you do it before you stopped caring?"

Dean stuck his hands in his pockets, looked down to the floor, and shrugged.

"How do you learn, kiddo?" Bobby pressed. "Do you gotta have it read to ya? Hands on? Whatever you need, Boy, I can help you with this. You just gotta tell me what to do."

"Right after…right after I was diagnosed," Dean whispered like he was talking about some horrible flesh eating disease. "I'd have Dad read worksheets to me. He didn't like to do it, told me I should learn to read myself and stuff, but when he'd do it, I could answer the questions pretty good. Or… um… I'd have someone read the questions and I could find the answers in the paper. If I gotta read a novel or something I'm fucked. Cuz I don't test good."

"Like I told ya before, kid," Bobby replied. "They can modify the test for you. All you gotta do it talk to the instructor. Doesn't mean you're any less than anyone else in that room."

"What if they… like… what if I have to read out loud or something to pass?" Dean asked. "Cuz I sound like an absolute retard when I have to do that."

"Practice," Bobby answered. "Sit up in your room and read that book you're sneaking around out loud to the wall, read it to me, read it to your brother. Practice is how you get better at anything."

"I don't want Sammy to know, though," Dean mumbled. "I don't think he knows about most of it, and I would _really_ like to keep it that way."

"Judgin' from the _fit_ Sam just threw," Bobby said pushing himself off the counter and walking toward Dean. "He won't be around all that much this summer. You're smart enough to pass that test on the first try. You're a lot smarter than you think you are. I'm gonna go grab some groceries. Stay here and make sure Sam doesn't do anything stupid."

"Alright," Dean nodded picking up the book off the table.

"Take a practice test," Bobby suggested. "You might surprise yourself."

* * *

His class was at seven pm at the community college on the east side of town three days a week. Dean wasn't really sure what to expect, but when he opened the door at 6:55, he was meet with twelve pairs of eyes, each belonging to a person at least twice his age. That made him feel a little better, at least he hadn't waited until he was graying and decaying before getting his GED. The only person in the room even remotely close to his age was the instructor, who was probably twenty-five and definitely a teacher he wouldn't have a problem asking for a little extra help from. She was petite with long dark hair that fell down to her mid-back, and honey colored eyes. Dean snuck himself into a front row seat, a place he never figured he'd ever end up, but if all of his teachers looked like this one, he might not be a high school dropout.

With the group he was with, Dean didn't feel like he was an idiot. The people around him seemed to have less of a grasp on the material than he did, most likely because he was less removed from school than everyone else, but he liked that feeling. He liked being able to raise his hand and answer a question. He hadn't done that since second grade. He liked how the teacher, Miss Hurley, would smile at him when he got it.

During the second week of classes, Dean decided to head to a bar near the campus. He felt like he'd kind of earned it. He was doing really well, passing the practice math tests and understanding most of the material. Going to that dive had absolutely nothing with over hearing his instructor say she was heading there after class, nothing at all. He ordered a beer; the bartender looked at him suspiciously, but never asked for id before passing the bottle over. He went to the dart board in the corner and started throwing, hoping his skills would draw the right kind of attention. Growing up the way he did left him with a very strange set of skills. He might not be able to write poetry or know what the scientific method was, but he could hit a bull's-eye on a dart board with his eyes closed and hustle a pay check out even the most skilled billiard player.

"Are you even old enough to be in here?" a voice asked from behind him. He turned and put on his best smug little smiled.

"My Id says I'm 24," Dean answered, winking at her.

"So what year were you born?" Miss Hurley asked.

Dean lost the smiled as he stared at her blankly. "19… ah Nineteen seventy nin-five."

"Nineteen seventy nine five?" Miss Hurley smiled, Dean felt his ears burning. "Convincing. I'm sure the bartender ate it up."

"Didn't even ask," Dean smiled. "You can't punish me for other people's failings."

"But you'll gladly reap the rewards?" Miss Hurley replied.

"If the reward is beer," Dean smirked. He held up his bottle before taking a short drink.

"You are a strange creature," Miss Hurley laughed. "Old soul, young heart."

"Thanks?" Dean replied. He pointed at her nearly empty glass. "I'll buy you a refill?"

"No," Miss Hurley shook her head. "I'm here with some friends."

"Why not?" Dean put on is best smiled. "It's Friday night, no class tomorrow, you can't let loose and just live a little?"

"You're nineteen," Miss Hurley replied. "And my student. And I'm pretty sure my sister would flip if she saw me talking to you."

"Why?" Dean leaned against the pool table and smiled the smirk he knew girls liked. He'd seen enough of them giggle fall for his charm to know what worked. "You gotta jealous boyfriend or something?"

"No," Miss Hurley replied. "It's just, you're my student, and since you're the youngest one I've ever had, I _may_ have mentioned you."

The smirk on Dean's face grew. "Yeah? You mention anything good?"

She rolled her eyes and looked over to a group of women her age across the bar. "Just that I finally had someone younger in my class. Normally, I have people my age and older. This town, you know, people try to get out, get away, if someone doesn't finish school, they usually don't stick around Sioux Falls; most of 'em head out to California or New York, some really ambitious people head to Minnesota. It's just nice to see someone take charge of their lives early."

Dean nodded.

"This is only my forth class," Miss Hurley continued. "So it's not like I have seen a populous of GED class students, just an observation from growin' up here."

"My uncle's making me," Dean smiled. "Says he won't hire anyone to work at his salvage yard without a diploma." Sometimes Dean surprised himself with how easy the lies flowed out of his mouth. "Doesn't matter how good I am underneath the hood of a car, I gotta have that piece of paper to get paid."

"Well," Miss Hurley replied. "That's responsible of him."

"Can we, do you wanna grab a booth?" Dean thumbed over his shoulder to booths across the way. "If you want to, I mean, it's cool standing in the middle of a bar, too."

"Fine," Miss Hurley bit her bottom lip. "Just let me tell my sister, and grab another drink. I'll be right over."

Dean sat down at only clean booth on that side of the bar and watched Miss Hurley and her friends at the bar. Eventually she made her way back over and sat across from him, a skeptical smile on her face.

"So," Miss Hurley said. "Why did a smart boy like you not finish high school?"

Dean looked up at her through his lashes. "I was in a car wreck a little over a year ago," Dean lied the one that Sam had told everyone when he got hurt made the most sense. "Busted up my leg pretty good. I was in a medically induced coma for, like, two months. Then I was in physical therapy for quite a while. Missed a lot of school, and I didn't want to be in high school til I was twenty five, so I just dropped out."

"You wouldn't have been in high school forever," Miss Hurley chuckled. "You seem like a bright kid, could have caught up real quick, I bet."

"You've only known me for two weeks, Miss Hurley," Dean replied leaning back in the booth. "I'm not exactly the _bright_ student you think I am. I'll find a way to disappoint you; in the classroom, anyway."

"Doubtful," Miss Hurley smiled. "You can call me Rhonda while were here, seems a little too formal to keep calling me Miss Hurley."

The two sat in that bar talking about pretty much everything. Dean really liked this girl, she was more than just a pretty face. He felt like this was the kind of girl that he could take back to Bobby's and introduce to Sam. His little brother could have smart people conversations with her over dinner. There was no way Sam could meet this girl scoff and call Dean shallow. They talked about pretty much anything, the fake car accident, how she got into teaching, why she choice to teach GED classes instead of regular school, Dean talked about Sam, it was nice, normal.

When the bartender announced last call, Dean escorted her to her car. He leaned up against the side and hoped for the best.

"This was fun," Dean smirked. "You should let me take you out sometime."

"Yeah, no," Rhonda shook her head. "You're sweet and everything, Dean, but no."

"What?" Dean chuckled. "You didn't have a nice tonight?"

"It was," Rhonda smiled. "I had a great time, but going further isn't a good idea. Not right now."

"Come on, babe," Dean smirked, leaning forward until their lips met.

"Whoa," Rhonda pushed away. "Do you not understand 'no.' Because I'm pretty sure I said it like five times."

"Yeah, but your eyes…"

"Also said no," Rhonda cut in. "This is why I don't date kids."

"Babe…"

"Call me 'Babe' again," Rhonda said opening her door so that it was between her and Dean. "And you'll be having bigger problems than rejection."

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "I… I don't know… I thought you were just playing hard to get or something. You were flirting with me all night and stuff. I thought we had something/"

"Well, we didn't," Rhonda said, glaring. "And I'll see you in class Monday."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Alright. I'm sorry."

"Just a tip," Rhonda added as Dean started to turn away. "When a girl says no, it means no. They're no 'hard to get' she doesn't want it. Remember that."

"Yes ma'am," Dean nodded. "I'm sorry. I'll see you on Monday."

Deans stepped away from the car as she got in and slammed the door shut, thinking to himself that he was probably the biggest idiot of all time.

* * *

Dean felt like a complete dick the next morning. He did really like Rhonda, thought she was amazing. He wanted to get to know her, biblically sure, but also on a personal level, meet the sister that was giving him the stink eye across the bar the night before, wanted her to meet Sam. It wasn't like he was imagining their wedding day or anything; he just wanted to be friends. He pulled the GED book from under his bed and started to flip through the Language arts section, Miss Hurley said they'd be starting that section Monday.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean called across the room. "Can you help me with this?"

"What?" Sam rolled his eyes he walked across the room and sat at end of Dean's bed.

"I don't understand what this means," Dean said handing Sam the book, pointing out the section that he was having difficulty with.

"What's not to get," Sam raised his eyebrow and looked over to his brother. "Read the section answer the questions."

"What does that mean?" Dean said seriously. "Like, what does it want?"

"It wants you to explain the symbolism featured in the section," Sam said slowly.

"What symbolism?" Dean asked.

"Did read the thing?" Sam asked handing the book back. "Cuz I'm not doin' your homework for you."

"I read it," Dean defended. "It's talking about some stupid tree in a field and people going to the tree to get what they need from the tree. There's no symbols."

"Tree's the symbol, dumbass," Sam rolled his eyes. "Did you really miss that many English classes? That's kinda basic shit."

"I never learn any of this crap," Dean hit his head against the wall behind his bed, pulled his knees closer to his chest. "When did you learn it?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "Grade school, I guess. It's just one of those things I've always known how to do. You just have to look passed the words on the page and see the actual meaning of the story."

"I'm gonna fall this fucking test," Dean sighed.

"Ask your teacher for help," Sam said, standing up. "They can probably explain it better that I could."

Dean shrugged and pulled his book back into his lap. "I'll figure it out, I guess."

"Is this part of you're learning disability?" Sam asked. "You can't think analytically?"

"Shut up," Dean mumbled, running a pencil over the questions as he read them. "I'm trying to work."

"No seriously," Sam said.

"I don't even know what that means," Dean replied. "So probably. Just leave me alone, I'll figure it out."

"You asked for help, dumbass," Sam chuckled. "If you want help I'll help you. What do you need?"

"I _need_ you to stop making fun of me," Dean sighed. "And go away. I'll figure it out myself. I shouldn't have asked you in the first place."

"I wasn't _making fun_ of you, I was answering your question," Sam defended.

"Yeah, well," Dean looked up and stared his brother dead in the eyes. "You're not helping."

Sam shrugged and walked out of the room, slamming the door, leaving Dean alone to try to figure out the problems himself. He'd figure out a way to do this himself. He had to. Failing this test would prove that he was just as stupid as he always thought he would. Passing would prove to everyone that he wasn't, that he was capable.

Dean eventually found his way down stairs for lunch. Sam had taken off for the day, just him a Bobby around the salvage yard.

"You said if I needed help," Dean mumbled. "That I could ask you."

"What do you need kiddo?" Bobby asked taking a seat next to him.

"Sam said this is supposed to be super easy," Dean said pointing to the tree story. "That I'm just supposed to pick out the symbols and explain what they mean, but I don't see any symbols. It's just a story about a tree."

"Okay," Bobby nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Is there, I don't know, a way to explain this better?" Dean asked. "I just don't get it. I can do, like, what are the major themes and who are the characters, but this abstract crap, I don't get it."

Bobby read it over and handed the book back to Dean.

"I can't really explain it without giving you the answers," Bobby said. "Whatcha want me to do?"

"Just," Dean sighed, he didn't want to get mad at Bobby, he just wanted to understand this stupid assignment. "Just never mind. I'll figure it out."

He stood up from the table and stormed off. Bobby probably called after him, but Dean wasn't paying attention. He went off to find something to hit.

* * *

Thursday night after class Miss Hurley called Dean over to her desk. Dean felt his stomach drop, he knew he'd been doing very poorly in class recently, and he was kind of afraid that she was going to call him out about what happened the weekend before.

"What's up with you lately?" Rhonda asked after everyone else filled out of the room. "You're not being that bright young man from the first few weeks of class. "

Dean shrugged and looked down at her desk. He hadn't had a one on one with a teacher since sixth grade when he jumped the kid that sat in front of him at recess for calling him names while he was trying to read a passage aloud from their history books.

"Talk to me," Rhonda said. "What's going on? Something up with your brother?"

Dean shook his head.

"Does this have something to do with last weekend?" Rhonda asked. "Because honestly, Dean, you shouldn't let that bother you, it doesn't bother me."

"No," Dean said. "I mean, I feel bad about it, but that's not it. I just think that this… this stuff's too hard. I got no chance of passing this test if it's like this."

"What do you mean?" Rhonda asked.

"You have my file, you know," Dean shrugged. "I can't do this. This is why I dropped out in the first place."

"Dean," Rhonda said firmly as Dean started to turn to leave. "This is basic stuff."

"Yeah, I know," Dean shouted. "Everyone keeps tellin' me that, which, big surprise, doesn't help. I don't understand it."

"Were you held back at all?" Rhonda pressed calmly.

"Don't you have my frickin' file?" Dean's voice evened out but he was still on the verge of yelling. "Yeah, I was in fourth grade."

"Why?" Rhonda asked.

"Cuz I'm frickin' stupid," Dean replied. "I couldn't keep up with everyone else so I got held back. And I could barely keep up then, but we moved around enough that sometimes I could pass it off as I just hadn't learned it yet and I skated by. It wasn't really a problem until I got in that wreck."

"Why couldn't you keep up?" Rhonda pressed.

"Don't you have my school records?" Dean asked again. "It's all in there."

"It's a thick folder," Miss Hurley replied. "Summarize."

"When I was in third grade my teacher realized I couldn't read," Dean sighed. "So I had to go through all this stupid special ed tests and they found out I had dyslexia and that's why I can't read, but I'm really good at math cuz there aren't any words. I _can_ read. Just not like everyone else. My brother, he read the whole Lord of the Rings in, like a month, all three. It took me, like, a year."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?"

"Because you're the teacher," Dean replied. "You have my school file. It's in there somewhere. Look, I'm just gonna get out of here. I don't need you lookin' down on me like everyone else does."

He turned to leave when she grabbed his hand.

"Dean," Rhonda sighed. "Look at me. Just listen, for a minute okay. If you need help, they can modify the test for you. You just have to say something or I can't do anything. If you need help, all you gotta do is ask."

"Everyone says that," Dean shook his head. "But when I actually ask I just get told I should be able to do it without help. That what I'm asking for help on is simple, that anyone could do it. But I can't figure it out. There's no fucking symbols in that story. It's about a tree."

"The tree represents life," Rhonda said calmly. "It's a story about life."

"But that's not what it was asking," Dean said, teeth clenched tightly. "It was asking about symbols. This is stupid."

"Calm down, okay," Miss Hurley said, rubbing her thumb over his hand. "I'll work with you if you want. We can work before class if you want, or after."

"You're just gonna tell me I'm stupid," Dean said. "My uncle, he told me he'd help, but when I asked he said he couldn't help me without givin' me the answers. I asked Sam to help, but he just laughs."

"I get paid to help people pass this test, Dean," Rhonda said. "Like, literally, that's my job. If you want help, I can help you. It's not that big of a deal. I've worked with people who have a bigger disadvantage than you do."

Dean sighed and looked her in the eye. "You promise?"

"Yeah, you said you read Lord of the Rings?"

Dean nodded. "A couple years ago, yeah."

"That's a pretty difficult series," Miss Hurley smiled. "Lots of characters, weird names, but you liked it?" Dean nodded. "But you probably couldn't write me an essay about it, right?"

"I read it three years ago," Dean replied. "But no, when I read it I couldn't have written one either."

"Okay, easy enough to work with," she pulled a pen out of her desk drawer and wrote something on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. "This is my phone number. Call me tomorrow, and we'll set up a time that works for you to meet and I'll tutor you."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "I'll do that."

"You're not stupid, Dean," Rhonda smiled. "You just have to believe in yourself. Maybe you need a cheerleader."

"Maybe," Dean mumbled.

"You have the brain to pass this," Rhonda continued. "I don't want to have you in my class a second time, you're too bright to think so little of yourself. Call me tomorrow afternoon. We'll set up lunch or something, and we'll work on the language arts part."

"Yeah, okay, Miss Hurley," Dean held the paper up. "I'll do that. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He turned and left after waving goodnight, clinching the paper tight in his hand. This was his ticket to proving himself. He smiled as he got into his car. He might be able to do this after all.

* * *

_AN2: I have plans for Rhonda to make her that girl that Dean talks about in _The End _in the next chapter. I didn't want her to be just a random girl at a bar, I wanted her to have substance and a real connection with him. I feel that there's a lot more to Dean than one night stands._


	46. Chapter 46

She met him at a café down the road from the college for lunch the following day. Dean was weirdly nervous, carrying Sam's book bag with his book and notebooks in it. He also felt like idiot, like a little kid. He hadn't carried a book bag since seventh grade, but he didn't want to advertise to the world that he was getting his GED. She was sitting eating a sandwich at an outside table when he joined her.

"Sorry," she said, mouth full of sandwich. "I was hungry, couldn't wait. The waiter should be back, I told him I was meeting someone. But I was starving." She handed Dean the menu.

"No problem," Dean nodded taking it and scanning for something cheap. Bobby was paying him for working on cars around the yard, but he wasn't exactly raking in the dough. He ordered a burger when the waiter showed back up, contemplated getting a beer, but the little smirk on Rhonda's face told him that probably wasn't the best idea and he settled on a soda.

"So," Rhonda said when the waiter walked away. "How can I make it so that you understand? You said you had a hard time with picking up symbols?"

"Yeah, but then you said, that it was what the tree was representing, and I got that." Dean nodded. "If it was worded like that I could have figured it out. Sometimes it's just how things are worded. I mean, like, I've been trying to figure stuff like this out since I was eight, so I got a little bit of practice with it. I'm kinda worried with it being a timed thing, because those stupid standardized test things we have to take in middle school, I could never finish on time."

"Okay," Rhonda nodded as the waiter placed Dean's drink on the table. "I can talk to the proctors, extend your time allowed if that'll help you."

"I can do math real good," Dean said. "I'm pretty good at science usually, but history and English, I got a problem with. I can't really keep dates straight, and you've probably noticed I have crap handwriting, and the comprehension thing. Sam says I can't think analytically. But I'm not really sure what that means."

"It, basically what I asked you yesterday," Rhonda nodded. "You can read a book, and like it, but you couldn't write an essay about it."

Dean nodded. "That makes sense. Sam said that he learned all about finding symbols and all that stuff when he was in grade school. I know I wasn't the best student, and I didn't pay attention all that much because we moved around a lot, I didn't understand most of it, but I feel like I wouldn't have missed that."

"You just have to look for things that mean something else," Rhonda explained. "Things with double meanings. When I was interning, I worked in a special education class with a little boy with sever dyslexia, way beyond anything that you've been experiencing. He had letter confusion and couldn't really understand time, he couldn't really spell simple words that most third graders can. I mean, he was eight, but it was pretty obvious he had learning problems. So I can probably take what I learned working with him and modify it to work for you."

"I'm not in third grade," Dean sighed. "I can _read_ just slowly."

"We'll figure something out," Miss Hurley smiled as Dean's burger arrived. "We got all afternoon."

After eating Rhonda took Dean to a book store. He followed in her footfalls as she wandered around the store asking Dean if he'd like this or that book. She'd open books he'd say he liked and make him read a passage, then summarize it for her.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Dean asked after the fourth book.

"The more you practice," Rhonda smiled running her hand along the book shelf of the Sci-Fi section. "The better you'll get at it."

Dean nodded and took the next book she handed him. "So like, if I took some of my brother's books and did this that would help?"

"Brain's a muscle," Rhonda replied. "Gotta work it out to keep in shape. Just like all your other muscles." She smiled and squeezed his bicep."

Dean smiled making eye contact with her, until she realized she was still holding his arm and let go.

"Sorry," she stammered.

"I don't mind," Dean smirked.

The ate dinner together before class, then she went to prepare and Dean wandered back to the bookstore and read a couple more books before heading back to the college. With Rhonda's help he could do this, he knew he could.

* * *

"There's a pep in your step lately," Bobby chuckled as Dean back from another study lunch with Rhonda Saturday afternoon. "You meet a nice girl in your class? That who you've been hanging out with the last couple days."

"Dean doesn't meet _nice girls_," Sam scoffed. "He meets bimbos with tits bigger than their IQ's, and definitely not during the day. Dean's kind of girl only looks good in the harsh neon light of dive bar."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said glaring sideways "I found someone who's helping me with the English stuff. Have you heard from Dad? Is he supposed to be back soon?"

"Monday," Bobby replied. "I'm guessing he'll be here for dinner."

"That mean we're taking off?" Sam asked.

"I'm finishing that class," Dean shook his head. "I got three weeks left then the test that Saturday. I'm not going anywhere til I finish it."

"I'm not leaving without Dean," Sam added looking at Bobby.

""Boys," Bobby sighed. "You can tell me that all you want, but you gotta say it your dad. I'm not a messenger. If you wanna stay here, you tell him that."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look then turned back to Bobby.

"I'll talk to him," Dean nodded. "He's not going to be very _pleased _with either of us. He probably has some big plans for the summer."

"Yeah, picnics and family vampire hunts," Sam scoffed. "We'll be just like the Cleavers."

"It shouldn't be too much of a burden for him to leave us here," Dean replied. "You'll stand with us right Bobby?"

Bobby nodded his head. "I got some work to do out in the yard." He mumbled to himself as he left the house, leaving the boys alone.

Dean stuck his book bag in the closet then flopped on to the couch next to Sam.

"You doin' anything tonight?" Dean asked. "You seem to have quite a social calendar since we rolled into to town."

Sam shrugged. "Not really. I think there's a party out by the lake, but I don't think I'm going."

"A party?" Dean smiled at his brother. "You're gettin' invited to parties after being in town for a month?"

"We basically grew up here," Sam rolled his eyes. "I know people. I'm friends with the girl next door. I have been since I was, like, two and Bobby didn't want me playing in rusted out cars and riding his dog like a horse so he took me to park down the street while you were at school."

"Huh," Dean nodded. It stuck Dean suddenly how different he and Sam were socially. Sam always found friends, didn't matter if they were in a place for a week or six months, Sam found a friend. He was able to keep them when they moved. Dean learned that friends weren't important, extra weight he didn't need.

"You don't find people you went to school with?" Sam asked. "You went to school here right?"

"First grade," Dean shrugged. "I barely remember most of them."

"We lived here basically every summer of our lives and you don't know anyone around?" Sam asked skeptically.

Dean shook his head. "If I invited a girl over for dinner would you be nice to her?" Dean thought it best to change the subject. "I think you'd like her."

"You're setting me up?"

"No," Dean groaned as if that was the stupidest question he'd ever been asked. "There's a girl I think I have a thing going with and I want you to meet her."

"Why?" Sam questioned.

"Because she's nice," Dean replied. "And I really like her, and she's smart and stuff. You could probably talk about stupid book things and stuff."

"What is she doing with you?"

"Very funny," Dean smiled slapping Sam in the back of the head. "She's special."

"Like _marry her_ special?"

Dean laughed out loud. "No, I'm not _marrying_ anyone. I just think you should meet her."

"Let me know when," Sam nodded. "I'll be here."

"Awesome," Dean ruffled Sam's hair. "Thanks kid."

* * *

They weren't _dating_, Rhonda said that about six hundred times in the two weeks that she'd been tutoring Dean, it didn't matter how many afternoons they spent together, she'd never say they were a couple. They were just friends. Not that Dean wouldn't cut his arms off to change that, but he's assumed too much the first time, and he wasn't up for that kind of humiliation again.

The Saturday after his dad got back, Dean lay sprawled on Rhonda's couch , listening to a pop up July thunder storm outside, trying to keep the events that led up to the Revolutionary War in order. Miss Hurley said that chronological order would probably be a very big part of that section of the test.

"Don't you have to be home for dinner?" Rhonda asked from across the room.

"I don't have a curfew," Dean answered never looking up from the book. "As long as I check in and let my Dad and uncle know I'm alive it's all good. Why? You want me to leave or something?"

"No," Rhonda answered. "Just curious. How's the studying going?"

"Really good," Dean looked over to her. "The note card thing is really helping. I wish I had you around when I was in middle school."

Rhonda smiled and tapped his leg until he moved his feet. She sat down and pulled them into her lap.

"This would be really awkward if I was your middle school teacher," Dean looked up her, confused, as she played with the hair on his leg.

He wasn't sure what changed, but he could tell just looking at her that something definitely did.

"Have you're girlfriends always been older than you?" she asked.

Dean shook his head. "We've usually been about the same age. I mean, umm, maybe a year or two older."

"But not old like me?" Rhonda smiled.

"No," Dean replied, smirking. "You're the only grandma."

"Shut up," she giggled.

"My uncle's been bothering me to meet this person I'm spending all my time with," Dean said. "Do you… would you want to come over for dinner or something? Sammy wants to meet you too. It would be nice. My Uncle's a great cook and stuff."

"You want me to meet your family?" Rhonda chuckled.

"Only if you want to," Dean said quickly, thinking of a way to back pedal out of this situation if necessary. "I mean, you gotta eat right?"

"Why not?" Rhonda smiled. "You talk about these people enough; I might as well put faces to names."

"Awesome," Dean grinned.

They locked eyes as she ran her hand up his leg onto this thigh beneath his shorts. Dean shifted uncomfortably, not that he wasn't enjoying the attention; it was just a little out of nowhere.

"Sorry," Rhonda fumbled retracting her hand.

"Oh, no," Dean replied. "It's cool. I just, I didn't think…"

She sighed. "I don't really know about this."

"I think we know where I stand," Dean said, pushing himself up so he was sitting instead of laying on the couch and touched the side of her face.

She was on his lap and in her bra with her tongue in his mouth before he really knew what happened. He tried to unbutton her shorts but she kept pushing his hand away.

"Miss Hurley," Dean moaned into her mouth. "I was hoping to meet this side of you."

As quickly as it started she pulled back.

"You should go home," Rhonda said, grabbing her shirt off the floor.

"Babe," Dean called after her as she stalked off to the kitchen.

"I warned you about calling me _babe_, Dean," Rhonda called.

"I don't wanna go home," Dean said forcefully. "I'd really like to stay here. I… I like spending time with you. It's pouring out."

"I don't think that's the best idea right now," Rhonda yelled from the kitchen. "You have a car. It's not like you're going to melt or anything. I'll call you tomorrow. Okay? I'll come over for dinner."

"Yeah," Dean sighed confused. He adjusted he pants before shoving his things into his book bag. "I guess that's cool." Confused, he let himself out and walked down the stairs to parking lot. He fished the keys out of his pocket and drove him, replaying the scene in his mind, trying to figure out what he could have possibly down wrong.

* * *

"Dean," Bobby yelled from downstairs, pulling Dean from a dreamless sleep early the next afternoon. "Phone, it's a girl."

Dean rolled off the bed and fumbled down the stairs taking the phone from Bobby and leaning against the fridge, trying to look cool and not like he'd literally just woken up.

"Hey," Rhonda voice entered his ear. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I didn't think you'd still be asleep at half past noon.."

"No," Dean shook his head. "I was up, it's all good. What's up?"

"I was just wondering what time dinner was?" Rhonda asked.

"Six," Dean answered. "We're gonna go for six."

"Alright," Dean could hear the smile in her voice. "Look, I wanna explain yesterday."

"I'm kind of in the middle of a kitchen with three other people," Dean whispered. "So… later… maybe."

"Dean's having phone sex!" Sam yelled from the table, loud enough for Rhonda to hear on the other end.

"I _will_ kill you," Dean growled between gritted teeth as he kicked Sam's chair, hard.

He could hear Rhonda's whole hearted laugh when he put the phone back to his ear.

"Sorry, my brother's a little bitch," Dean glared wanting more than anything to smack the self-satisfied grin off his smug little face. He gave Rhonda Bobby's address and directions before hanging up and grabbing Sam's arm with both hands and twisting in opposite directions.

"Asshole," Sam stood up and tried to put Dean in head lock but Dean as faster, stronger. He had Sam on his stomach on the floor before Sam really got his hands on him.

"Boys," John sighed from the living room. "Knock it off."

Dean stood up, but shoved Sam down to the floor again before allowing him to stand up.

"Friggin' jerk," Sam mumbled, brushing his shirt off.

"Bitch," Dean smirked before running upstairs to get ready.

* * *

He met Rhonda in front of Bobby's house a half hour before dinner would be ready. She looked gorgeous as always in a blue sun dress with yellow heals. He led her into the house and into the living room where his dad was drinking beer and watching a Brewers game.

John eyed the woman skeptically, and then nodded at Dean. "Is this the girl you're spending all your time with?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.

"You don't think she's a little _mature _for you," John said eyeing between the two of them.

"Dad, _seriously_," Dean sighed.

He guided Rhonda into the kitchen where Bobby and Sam were. Bobby didn't seem to have a problem with the age difference, treated Rhonda like an actual normal person. They exchanged small talk in the kitchen until the roast was done, then all sat around the table.

"You're Earl and Margaret's youngest right?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," Rhonda nodded.

"Are you the one that went to school in St. Paul?"

"No," Rhonda corrected. "That was Rita; I went to the University of Wisconsin."

"What did you major in?" Sam asked his interest perked.

"Education," She smiled.

"How lucky that Dean found you then," John said skeptically.

"Oh my God," Sam chuckled. "Are you Dean's…" he was cut off my a hard kick in the shin and a piercing glare from his brother. Rhonda and Dean had decided it was probably in their best interest to not let his family know that she was his teacher.

"Where did he meet you?" Sam asked, trying to hide the little smirk on his face.

"Dive by the college that my class is in," Dean answered. "Impressed her with my dart skills."

"You know he's nineteen?" John said. "Not even old enough to be _in_ a bar."

"It's easy to get in when they don't ID anyone, Dad," Dean said. He could tell his dad wasn't a fan of Rhonda, but he didn't want his dad thinking she was some kind of horrible person that snuck teenager boys into bars and took advantage of them.

"Sam," Rhonda turned, trying to keep everything civil. "Dean told me that you're really into the Hitchhiker's Guide trilogy? You're reading it?"

"Yeah," Sam lit up. "Have you read it?"

Rhonda nodded and smiled. Dean loved watching Sam talk about his books, he seemed so happy. Dean missed that light in his eyes. He didn't get to see it near often enough.

After they ate, John stormed off went outside clearly annoyed. Dean and Rhonda sat on the couch eating a pie that Bobby made.

"So…" Dean smiled. "My dad hates you."

Rhonda laughed and shrugged. "That's a new one. Usually my boyfriend's families love me."

"Boyfriend?" Dean questioned. Rhonda had been pretty clear that they _weren't_ dating.

She leaned in and nibbled his earlobe. "Boyfriend," she confirmed. "About last night though." She lowered her voice and looked around the room, Sam was washing dishes and Bobby was out in yard feeding his dogs.

"If I did something weird, I'm really sorry," Dean said quickly.

"No, it's not that," Rhonda smiled. "It's... I take my job seriously. And... and when you called me 'Miss Hurley' while we were, you know... it just."

"Made you feel like you were taking advantage?" Dean guessed.

"Yeah, kind of," Rhonda nodded.

"You're not," Dean confirmed. "I swear. You're not taking advantage of me. I just... you know... think it's kind of hot... forbidden."

"You're a freak," Rhonda laughed leaning for a kiss.

"See, even your girlfriend agrees with me," Sam said from behind them.

Dean pulled away from Rhonda and sat up a little. It wasn't like Sam had never seen Dean with a girl before or anything, but there was something about Rhonda, something that made Dean feel like she needed to be pushed up on a pedestal and shown off. It didn't feel right kissing her in front of other people. They sat together on the couch, Rhonda's head on his shoulder until it got dark outside.

The moment they couldn't see Rhonda's headlights, John started arguing with Dean.

"How old is that woman?"

"She's twenty six," Dean answered turning to walk back into Bobby's house. "And I started it. She's not messing with my head or anything."

"She's too old for you," John decided. "I don't like it."

"You don't get a say," Dean replied.

"I'm your father, yes I do," John said.

"I'm nineteen," Dean said turning to face his dad. "I can do what I want."

"I don't want you to see her anymore," John demanded.

"She's _tutoring_ me," Dean responded. "So I can get my GED. I'm going to keep seeing her."

"You take that test Saturday right? Then you're breaking up with her," John said. "I've dealt with you bringing around enough girls. I don't need you hooking up with someone old enough to be your mother."

"She's seven years older than me," Dean exclaimed. "She's not old enough to be my mother. She's a nice girl. She likes Sam. She's smart. I like her. I'm sorry you don't but you don't get a say in who I like."

"Don't talk back to me," John fumed. "You _will_ follow my orders. If I find out your hanging around this girl after you take that stupid test I swear to God, Dean."

"What Dad?" Dean said, right up in his dad's face. "What are you going to do to me?"

A hand grabbed Dean's forearm and pulled him backward.

"Go upstairs, Dean," Bobby ordered softly.

Dean turned and ran upstairs. He understood how Sam said he felt all the time, like he was being held under their father's thumb, like had total control over everything. For the first time, Dean didn't like it. John didn't get to have a say in who made Dean happy. He was going to make this relationship last as long as possible just to spite him. Part of him was a little afraid of what his dad would do to him if Bobby wasn't around. Having that buffer there was the only think keeping them from killing each other lately. He was fine following orders, he _liked_ following orders. He just wasn't going to let his dad decided his personal life, that was one step too many for him.


	47. Chapter 47

Dean sat alone in a plain white room, well, not alone, there was an elderly woman at a desk watching him, and the twelve other people that were in his class, but besides that he was alone taking his test. He'd sped through the math part, like he thought he would, the science part was pretty much a piece of cake, the writing part had given him some trouble. He knew he could get through it; Rhonda talked him up that morning before he left. He could do this. He made sure he wrote slowly, wrote in tiny capital letters, easier to read. He was pretty proud of what he'd done so far. He was finishing with the part he was dreading the most. Rhonda had filed the paperwork to give him a modified test, but Dean was pretty sure they made it harder on purpose. He looked for keywords in passages like Rhonda taught him and slushed through it. He did his best, a few questions tripped him up, weird wording he wasn't used to, but he tried. He tried his damnedest.

He realized as he kept filled in the circles that he wasn't doing this to prove something to his father like he thought he was. He was doing this for himself, maybe a little bit for Sammy. If he passed this, which he knew he could, he could do anything. There wouldn't be that cloud hanging over him that said "uneducated." He'd have something to fall back on if everything hit that fan.

* * *

"Now I just gotta _wait_," Dean smiled when he met Rhonda for lunch afterward.

"Six weeks," Rhonda replied. "That's not too long."

"I don't think I'll be around then," Dean shrugged. "Dad likes to be settled into a new town around the first of September when school starts for Sam."

"You won't just stay in Sioux Falls?" Rhonda questioned. "Even with everything you got going on here?"

"You'd think," Dean smirked. "But we haven't doubled up on a school district yet, and I went to first grade here and I think Sam finished up 8th here, so _obviously_ we can't stay."

"You can't just decide for yourself?" Rhonda asked. "Why not just say fuck it and stay here."

"Believe me, Rhonda," Dean shook his head. "If I could take Sammy and run away, I woulda done it a hundred years ago. I mean, I love my dad, I really do, but him and Sammy… they're oil and water. I can't walk away alone because I can't leave my kid brother alone with my dad. They'll kill each other. If I go, I'm going with Sammy. I just don't want to piss him off. You met him, he was tame that night. I gotta be that buffer between him and Sam or someone will end up dead. And I can't live with that."

"Why don't you just tell him you're staying with your uncle," Rhonda asked.

"Bobby isn't…" Dean sighed trying to think of a way to say what he wanted to say without sounding like an idiot. "Bobby's not _actually_ related to us. He's a friend of the family, but he's been a part of our lives for so long that he's basically our uncle. He can't just take us. Even if we want him to. Dad won't let him. It was a fight and a half to get him to let us stay here all summer."

"Your dad sounds like a controlling jerk," Rhonda replied. "No offence but, seriously, Dean, it would probably be best to get away. You're an adult now, you don't have to live like that."

"I got to for Sam," Dean shook his head "But I get it. I get why my dad's like that. I mean, after our mom, you know, he… uh… he doesn't want to lose us. He's afraid he's gonna lose us."

"So he puts you in a pressure cooker until you feel like you don't have a choice in your own life?"

"Kinda, yeah," Dean nodded. "But I'd rather just keep him happy than piss him off."

"What if I didn't want you to go?" Rhonda reached across the tabled and rubbed Dean's hand. "What if I gave you a reason to stay?"

Dean chewed on his bottom lip. He had a pretty good idea what she meant, but he knew he'd never stay with her. He couldn't. Sam came first, he had to.

"Come back to my place," Rhonda grinned slyly. "I got you something."

Dean let her pull by the hand down the street to her place over the dentist office a few streets away. He tried to picture what it would be like to call that tiny apartment his. What it would be like to have a job and go home to the same little apartment every day for years.

He could do something like that, especially when he got those test scores back. He could find an auto shop to work at during the week, spend some weekends working at the salvage yard with Bobby. He could probably even hunt sometimes if there were ones close by. How great would that be for Sammy? He could graduate here, go to college nearby. Use that big brain of his for whatever he wanted.

Rhonda pushed Dean onto her sofa.

"I bought you something," she whispered into his ear. "But you behave or you don't get it."

Dean stared at her, wide eyed. "Okay."

"Since you're not my student anymore," Rhonda smiled as he kissed him on the cheek. "We don't have to hide our relationship from anyone. And since we don't have to hide it…"

"What?" Dean asked. "What do we get to do?"

"My parents have a lake house in Minnesota," Rhonda suggested. "We can go there for a weekend, long weekend… week. It would be a great time. There's a rope swing and it real dark out there at night, kind of in the middle of nowhere. It's very romantic."

"That would kind of be awesome, actually," Dean smiled. "Getting out of here for a little bit. I'll talk to Bobby when I get home, work it out."

"Next weekend?" Rhonda grinned.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I can do that."

"Awesome," Rhonda kissed him softly on the cheek. "Now close your eyes and look ahead. I want it to be a surprise."

"I _love_ these kinds of surprises," Dean replied.

Several minutes passed in silence while he waited. Until he finally felt Rhonda straddle him, her hands roaming up his chest. She placed he hand over her breast.

"Open," she whispered into his ear. "You like it?"

She was wearing a very sexy pink lacy bra with matching satin panties. Dean _definitely _liked it. He nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, ma'am," he managed. "I love it."

"Don't," Rhonda chuckled as he ran his hands over the fabric. "Don't call me ma'am. It's weird."

"Sorry," Dean answered before kissing her collar bone. "You really bought this for me though?"

Rhonda nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulders. "I saw it at the mall and I just… I just _knew_ that you'd love it. And since we don't have to hide our relationship, we can kick it up a notch."

Dean nodded, transfixed. "I like it. I'd appreciate it a whole lot more on the floor." He ran his hand around the front of her underwear, thumbing at the elastic as they made out.

"You know," she leaned back. "This was really expensive; I'd like to get my money's worth."

Dean nodded in agreement. "We can go out to dinner... the movies. I'll pay if you wear that."

"Dean," she laughed. "That's not what I meant."

"What were you thinkin' then?" Dean said still staring in awe that he'd somehow gotten this lucky.

"You wanna try 'em on?"

Dean nodded unsure of what she actually asked.

"You really would?" Rhonda said surprised. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean agreed. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but he knew it had to be awesome. Everything with this girl was awesome.

"Come on then," she grinned, standing up. She pulled him into her bedroom for night he never would have predicted.

* * *

As he got ready to leave that night, Rhonda stuck those pink panties in his right front pocket. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder.

"So you don't forget," she smiled.

"I… uh… I don't think I'm going to forget that anytime soon," Dean replied, turning around to kiss her hard.

"You should go," Rhonda whispered. "Don't want your dad to come looking for you."

"Yeah," Dean sighed kissing her again. "That could turn out badly."

"When do you think you'll be leaving town?" Rhonda asked.

"Well," Dean sighed. "I'm gonna stay as long as possible, at most, a month, maybe. Then we'll pack up the cars and throw a dart a the map and live there for a couple months. If we're really lucky we'll be there til Christmas."

"Why?" Rhonda asked. "That's… that's just no way to raise kids."

Dean shrugged. He wasn't going to explain the job to her, he couldn't see explaining the job to any girl he'd end up with. He'd have to truly, honestly, whole-heartedly _love_ someone to dump that kind of crap into their life. Rhonda was great, but he couldn't see her in his life in two months, let alone forever.

"It works most of the time," Dean replied. "Never really known anything different. I'll call you in the morning? We'll talk about this weekend. That would be, like, awesome."

"Yeah," Rhonda smiled. "Yeah, we should spend as much time together as we can before you leave."

When Dean left, he couldn't help but think that Rhonda probably thought they'd do a little bit of a long distance thing when he left. He really did like her, really did enjoy spending time with her, appreciated what she'd done for him, but Dean didn't like having strings. He'd keep her around the next three or weeks sneak around all he could so his dad wouldn't know. But when they left town that was the end of the relationship.

* * *

"How'd that test go?" Bobby asked after John sent Sam to bed and he, Dean, and Bobby sat watching the eleven o'clock news.

"Really well," Dean nodded. "Working with Rhonda really helped. Thanks for making me do it, Bobby."

"You're welcome," Bobby nodded placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's a step in the right direction for you I think."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Just gotta wait six weeks for the results."

"There's a bunch of cattle mutilations in eastern Ohio," John interjected.

"That's great," Dean shrugged. "I have plans this weekend."

"Well, cancel 'em," John replied. "We're heading out soon. It looks like demons. And I told you that as soon as this test thing was over with, you weren't seeing that woman anymore."

"I can't cancel them," Dean mumbled. "They're important. There's only a couple weeks left in the summer, and you don't even know her, really."

"I don't care," John replied. Dean couldn't help but think about how close his father's voice was to thunder at times like this. How Sam used to tell him when they were curled up together during storms when they were little that he was scared of thunder because it reminded him of their dad.

"John," Bobby sighed. "Let the kid be a kid."

"No, learn some respect, Dean," John continued. "I thought you better than that. I told you to do something and we're going to do it. You understand? I told you I don't like that woman takin' advantage of a young kid like you. Nothing good comes from that. So you'll call her in the morning and tell her you're leaving."

"I don't want to," Dean shook his head. "I have plans for the weekend. I'm not canceling them. I'm nineteen, I can make my own decisions. And I want to go to her lake house for a weekend. The hunt will be there when I get back. It's not gonna hurt anything."

"You know how many people could be dead by next week?"

"Thousands," Dean replied. "Thousands of people die every day, sir. I don't see why it's my job to stop all of it."

"Because I said so," John answered. "Get packing. Let Sam know that we're leaving in the morning."

"That's not fair," Dean said.

"Life's not fair," John glared. "Now go."

"Fine," Dean mumbled getting up off the couch. "You know what, _sir_, I get why Sam ran away. Seems like a damn good idea."

"Then run, Dean," John answered. "Take off and don't look back. But if you leave don't bother coming home. And don't you think that I'll let you back around Sam again. You won't be able to afford to live on your own, and that _girlfriend_ ain't gonna take in a fifteen year old boy along with ya. So pick your battles, Dean, pick 'em careful."

Dean clenched his teeth tight and glared before storming up the stairs to pack.

Upstairs Sam was reading by flashlight under a blanket.

"What the fuck, Sam?" Dean sighed turning on the light. "What are you eight?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble," Sam replied pulling the blanket off his head.

"Dad wants us to pack up," Dean said. "Leaving in the morning."

"Where to?" Sam asked. "For how long?"

"Ohio and I don't know," Dean sighed as he pulled his duffle bag out from under his bed. "Dad thinks it's demons, so it could be a while." Dean emptied his pockets onto the bed before walking to the dresser to grab the rest of his clothes.

"Hold up," Sam said sitting up on his bed. "Did you just pull a girl's underwear out of your pocket?"

"Uh… yeah," Dean nodded. "They're Rhonda's."

"You stole her underwear?"

"No, she gave them to me," Dean answered. "I'm not a perv."

"Debatable," Sam chuckled. "Um… why did she just give you her underwear? That's really weird, and kinda gross."

"I'm just that good, Sammy," Dean said smirking over at Sam who still wore a half confused half disgusted look on his face.

"How… ummm… how do you get them to do that?" Sam mumbled.

"Do what?" Dean asked dumping all this clothes onto the bed and folding them to stick them in his bag. "Give me their underwear? That's only happened once and I'm not sharing the dirty details, kiddo."

"No, not that," Sam exhaled loudly. "Like, you know… do it."

Dean turned around to face his brother. "Didn't you live with your girlfriend for two weeks?"

Sam shook his head. "No, she only stopped by sometimes. She had to be home for dinner."

"So what did you do all day?" Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

"Stuff," Sam shrugged. "Don't change the subject I wanna know."

"Know what, Sammy?" Dean shook his head.

"Well, like, Tiffany, she… we would…" Sam stammered. "We'd like, _kiss_ and stuff, but like I couldn't… you know… like…" Sam started to make strange uncoordinated hand motions.

"Get past second base?" Dean guessed.

""Umm… I'm not sure which one that is," Sam answered.

"Boobs," Dean said simply.

"Then no," Sam shook his head. "I didn't get to second base."

"It's not a race, Sam," Dean said sitting down on his the edge of his bed. "You don't gotta rush it or nothing. It'll come to you."

"Yeah, but like," Sam replied. "You were, like, twelve when you lost you lost your virginity and stuff."

"I was fifteen," Dean corrected. "Almost sixteen, actually, if you want to get technical about it."

"Really?" Sam asked skeptically.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, you're way ahead of me there. It was all the same girl. Dad, actually, broke up my first real kiss. So there's that."

"Oh," Sam sighed. "But like, I wanna know how to like get girls to let me do stuff to them."

"Just give it time," Dean nodded. "You're a good kid, a nice guy, and girls like that. They don't think that you'll rush them, which is good. You don't want to rush it. Just let it happen. There's nothing wrong with you."

"But," Sam interjected.

"Just let it happen, kid," Dean repeated. "It won't be special or worth it if you force it. Believe me, okay."

Sam nodded. "But I still wanna do stuff, and like, you… you can get girls to just about do anything. I wanna know how to do that."

"Sammy," Dean said seriously. "It'll come to you. I promise, okay. Don't think that there's anything wrong with you because you haven't gotten to second base yet. You're a good kid. Good guys attract respectable girls. As a rule, almost, respectable girls like to go slower."

"How do I find a _fast_ girl," Sam asked.

"Sam," Dean sighed. "You don't _want_ a fast girl. It's not as big of a deal as you're making it out to be. You're a sophomore in high school, you're still weird looking, and you're a nerd, so just let the girls come to you."

"Dean," Sam whined. "I don't think you get understand."

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean nodded. "I do. You're the new kid, you want people to like you. I've been there. You want people, girls, to like you. And you think the best way to get girls to like you is to be good at kissing and fooling around. You think guys will want to be your friend if you can get a girlfriend."

Sam nodded quickly and brushed his hair out of his face. "Yeah, kinda."

"Just don't rush it," Dean said. "You'll regret it if you rush it. Be yourself. There's nothing wrong with being you. Now, pack up. I have a feeling we're going to get a nice early wake up call."

"Yeah, okay," Sam nodded standing up to pack his bag. "Thanks."

Dean threw his arm over his brother's shoulder. "You're too good of a kid to be worried about girls. Just let them come to you. It'll happen, alright?"

Sam nodded and pushed Dean off of him. They packed their bags in a comfortable silence then shut the light off and went to bed.

Dean lay staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how he was going to tell Rhonda that they were leaving. He felt guilty that he wouldn't get to do it to her face, but maybe if he was lucky, he'd be able to get away for a little bit, met her at that lake cabin. It wasn't like she was a girl in a random town that he'd never be in again. Sioux Falls was about as close to a home base as he was ever going to get. He knew this was coming, but he never imagined his dad would be that much of a dick to take off the day after he took his GED test. Maybe he could convince his dad he had to be at Bobby's to get the results of his test. Maybe that's how he could make sure that he had at least one more day with Rhonda. He wished his dad could understand, not see everything that he and Sam did as defying him. But after that stunt Sam pulled in May, Dean figured it would be a while before their dad fully trusted either of them again.

He worried about Sam, worried that he'd rush himself, meet a girl like the ones Dean attracted when he was sixteen and get himself in all kinds of trouble. He wished he could bring Rhonda around more; show Sam that she was the kind of girl worth dating. Maybe he could find a girl like her in Ohio, or where ever they ended up after that. Teach Sam about the right kind of girls. He worried about Sam ending up like him. He should have been a better role model, but it was too late to change that now. He'd talk to Sam on the long ride to Ohio. Try to explain what he should be looking for; try to convince him to not follow Dean's lead, to hit the books instead of the parties. Sam hand a good head on his shoulders. Dean knew he was capable of figuring it out, but that wasn't going to keep him worrying about his little brother.

* * *

_AN: I was asked to pick up the action a little bit, don't worry I have a big hunt planned soon! I just wanted to get a couple relativity calm, character building chapters out first. I didn't want to jump from action point to action point, I wanted to show that they were real people too, with real connections. I feel like I tend to lose the connections between the characters when I write the "action sequences."_


	48. Chapter 48

Dean opened a P.O. box in Ohio so Bobby could send him the GED results the second week of September. He scored damn near perfect in math, high in science and middle of the road in history and both language arts sections. It was a million times better than he ever imagined he'd do. He would have hung it up on the fridge if they had one in the cabin they were staying in, but his place only had an ancient ice box that barley kept anything cold. Sam bitched every day about it until they left in the middle of October.

In true Winchester fashion, they moved every month or so. Not holding still long enough to put down even the shallowest of roots. Dean watched his brother slowly grow angrier and angrier. He just hoped that Sam would send the rage that would eventually boil over at their father and not at him. That whole school year, Dean felt like their dad was punishing Dean for daring to have a real girlfriend, punishing Dean for trying to do something worthwhile with his life. He'd listen to John complain about how angst-filled and annoying Sam was getting, but wouldn't listen when Dean suggested they stay put for a while the kid be a kid. John seemed to think he knew best, when the best had gotten them nowhere the last sixteen years.

They landed in Topeka Kansas at the beginning of Sam's junior year. If there was ever a place that could be called the "center to supernatural activity" it was the Midwest. John made a list of hunts in the area: possible poltergeist in Kansas City, Missouri, werewolf sightings in Lincoln, Nebraska, demons in Tulsa, Oklahoma, hauntings in south western Iowa; and so on. He taped it to the fridge at the by pay by the month two bedroom apartment John snagged. It was like someone was finally listening to Dean's prayers because they were going to be here for a while.

It was a little weird for Dean being only a half hour down I-70 from "home" but he kept that to himself, he didn't need to give his dad a reason to up and leave. John had a hair trigger about things like that on the best of days. However, Dean thought about maybe taking Sam to Lawrence one weekend when Dad wasn't home, show him where it all began. Maybe Sam would like that; it might make his brother understand what they were fighting for. But the more Dean thought about it, the less he thought it was a good idea. Sam was too little when they left to understand, that little white house wasn't home to him. It was an idea, an imaginary place almost. Dean knew he couldn't go back, it wouldn't be the same.

Sam had found himself a nice little group of friends here, Dean even grew to like most of them. They were weird, like his brother, but getting to hear Sam laugh and smile when he was around them, made that little group of dorks grow on Dean. Sam joined the debate team and drama club, played soccer with encouragement of his new group of friends.

"You know that the likelihood that we'll be here 'til the end of the semester are slim right?" Dean asked Sam as he read over the script for the school play.

"So I should crawl in a hole, push everyone away, and not make friends?" Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not you, Dean. I like having friends. The play's in November. It's not like I'm going to go for a big part or anything, but I really want to do it. It'll be fun."

"You got _a lot _of shit going on here though," Dean sighed.

"Just because you never did anything when you were in school, doesn't mean that I have to sit back and do nothing," Sam spat. "All this crap looks really good on college apps, Dean. I'm setting up for my future."

"Whatever, Sammy," Dean shrugged as he started to pull weaponry out of a duffle bag to clean. "I don't want to listen to you bitch about it when we're packing up half way through October before the soccer season's over, or before your play thing happens."

"Dad's not that big of a jackass," Sam shook his head.

"Yeah, Sam," Dean nodded taking apart a pistol. "He really is."

"Well," Sam sighed. "I signed up to take the SATs so were stuck here until the first week of December. Cuz I know the only think dad hates more than ghosts and demons in wasting money. And the SATs aren't exactly cheap."

"Boys!" John called from the other room, causing both of them to drop what they were doing and run to find out what happened.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, trying his best to stand straight, look the part. Sam leaned against the kitchen counter not amused.

"You boys have any plans for the weekend?" John asked. Dean turned to catch Sam's eye, but he didn't speak up. "Well, I gotta salt and burn in Wichita that needs getting done. But I also got what looks like something real big brewing in Jefferson City, and I'd rather take care of that. You think you can handle it?"

"You want us to go out on a hunt alone?" Sam asked.

"Not alone," John clarified. "Together."

"By ourselves?" Sam sighed.

"You're grownups," John nodded. "I think you can handle finding out who's haunting the elementary school in Wichita and burn the bones in a weekend."

"Last time you let us do something like that, Dean got arrested," Sam replied.

"Well," John said sternly. "I expect that it'll turn out a lot better this time around, since I won't be around to bail you out this time."

* * *

"This is stupid," Sam whined, tossing his book bag in the back seat of the Impala after school on Friday.

"Look," Dean breathed leaning across the top of the car toward his brother. "If you got a party of something this weekend you want to go to, say so now. I'll go to Wichita myself and you can do whatever, but once we get in the car, you have to stop whining. Sound fair?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged.

"Is there a party?" Dean asked slightly annoyed. "Is Pete or whatever the fuck his name is having a study night or something that you want to go to?"

"No," Sam exhaled deeply. "But I still don't want to go."

"I can't make you do anything," Dean replied. "But I'd like it if you at least rode with me, cuz it's a long ride and I'd rather not do it by myself. Since you don't got anything else goin' on, can you just suck it up and ride with me?"

Sam shrugged and popped the door. Dean looked up to the sky, asking anyone up there to give him the strength not to strangle his little brother halfway between Topeka and Wichita.

* * *

It was a two and half hour ride, nothing big for those boys but Dean when Sam didn't want to be there, it made every mile that much more difficult. His brother was silent for the first forty five minutes of driving, just stared out the window at the Kansas flat lands.

"Hey," Sam coughed turning down the radio. "Did Dad teach you to drive in the Impala?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "I learned in Bobby's big blue truck. Dad wouldn't let me behind the wheel of this baby until he was sure I wasn't going to wreck it."

"Bobby taught you?" Sam asked. "Huh."

"What?" Dean sighed glancing sideways.

"Nothing, I'm just the only one in my class that doesn't have their license yet," Sam replied. "I just, you know, wanna learn."

"You wanna ID," Dean asked. "Cuz I didn't take a driver's test. I just have a really good fake."

"No, Dean," Sam said as if that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "I want to learn how to drive so I don't have to ask my friends to drive me everywhere."

"I can do that," Dean nodded. "If you want me to. We'll probably have some down time while we're down here. You can do a few laps around a mall parking lot or something."

"Really?" Sam asked sounding so much like a little kid that Dean couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "But if you dent this car, you get to tell Dad that you stole it. Cuz I'm not dealing with him yellin' at me for trying to do something nice. This car is more valuable than anything you've ever touched."

"You'd really let me drive it?" Sam asked. "Like _really_?"

"Not on the highway or nothing," Dean nodded. "But I'll teach ya the ropes. Maybe dad'll let you take a turn in long rides. I'm not letting you drive the highway or nothing, but maybe you can drive to school or something when we get back."

"That would be _awesome_," Sam smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem, kiddo," Dean smirked. He turned the radio back up and started to sing along while Sam tired not to laugh.

A little while later, Dean could tell that something else was up with Sam. He started to shift awkwardly like his legs were cramped. Dean was about to ask if Sam wanted to stop and stretch for a minute when Sam started to talk.

"Don't you think it's weird that Bobby taught you all the important stuff in life?" Sam asked picking his thumb nail. "And then you had to teach me. Like how to drive, how to ride a bike, how to tie your shoes…"

"_Mom_ taught me how to tie shoes," Dean interrupted. "And how to read, and count, and all that _important_ stuff I taught you because she _couldn't_."

"Yeah, I know why you taught me all that stuff," Sam shrugged. "But Bobby did all that milestone parent-y stuff. All the stuff that all the other kids say they learned from their Dads. You don't think it's weird that Dad didn't do it?"

"No," Dean answered shortly. "Dad was busy."

"How old were you when you learned to ride a two wheeled bike?"

"Six," Dean answered. "Beginning of first grade."

"So Dad couldn't take a day out of his_ busy_ life to teach his six year old to ride a bike," Sam spat. "Six year old you didn't ask Dad to teach you how to ride a bike?"

"Six year old me didn't _have _a bike," Dean correct. "There was this bully little girl in my class who rode her bike to school every day and one day I asked Bobby why I didn't have a bike, and Bobby brought me one. Then he realized I didn't know how to ride it. So he taught me. Dad wasn't even around."

"That's kind of my point," Sam said. "Dad wasn't around to teach his son how to ride a bike. So the family friend he dumped us with had to teach you. And you _stole_ a bike to teach me."

"I borrowed it," Dean defended. "I put it right back where I found it Monday morning."

"That's not the point," Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about Dad. I mean, like, I get that Mom died and he was grieving, but in a normal life, wouldn't the loss of a spouse push you toward your children not away from them?"

"What do you want from me?" Dean shook his head, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I can't change it. Our childhood sucked. I know I was there, okay. But we can't do anything about it now."

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "I mean, like I don't know."

"Well," Dean was trying to yell at Sam, but it was getting hard. "Just leave Dad at home this weekend. I get that you and him have your differences, but he's not here this now, it just me and you. And you can bitch every day til you're blue in the face about all the shit we didn't get when we were little but it doesn't change anything. Dad did the best he could under the circumstances. So what if we didn't get live in a house with a yard and see the same stupid people every day. Dad may have gone about the job the wrong way, but we can't change it. Way I look it, we're lucky Bobby didn't tell Dad to go fuck himself when he showed up at his front door with a toddler and six year old."

"Jesus," Sam sighed. "You don't have to fucking yell at me."

"I'm sorry," Dean replied. "It's just… Sammy… you gotta give Dad a break, okay. Just… just… let it go. We can't change anything."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, slouching in the seat until his knees hit the glove box. "I'll try."

"I know it's hard," Dean continued. "I know how much you but heads, but this weekend, it's just us. And I'm gonna teach you to drive, and we'll go out and hit on some girls, play some pool or something, but you gotta leave the pissy teenage 'I hate my parents' shit back in Topeka."

They finished the ride in silence, just the music of a classic rock station to keep it from getting awkward.

* * *

When they got to Wichita, the first thing they did was scope the elementary school, just to see what they would have to work with, then off the library. Sam found a group of girls in the corner that looked around his age and went over to them to see if they'd heard anything about haunting. Dean hit the newspaper archive machine to find suspicious deaths in the area.

Dean found a possible, a teacher named Karen Paige. A woman that lived in the early 1900's, her life was teaching, never hand a family of her own, never married. The new school, the haunted one, was built atop the old one room school house she used to teach in. All they had to do was find out where she buried and they'd be one the road again after breakfast in the morning. Easy as pie.

Sam came running over after Dean printed out everything he could on Miss Paige.

"So get this," Sam said leaning against the wall while Dean sorted the paperwork. "Those girls over there, they said that there's a rumor that the person haunting the school is an old teacher."

"Karen Paige," Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"They said she's not a fan of what's being taught in schools now," Sam continued. "She haunts the halls. A couple people have seen her, they said. She's only ever attacked one person. Just the lady that Dad saw in the paper which is why he sent us here."

"One person too many, Sammy," Dean replied. "We just gotta find out where she's in the ground and we can take care of it after we eat."

"Graveyard behind the Old Catholic church," Sam said. "That's were all the people from that time are buried."

"Sweet deal," Dean smirked. "Let's burn this mother."

"I'm starving," Sam said. "Can we eat first?"

"Of course," Dean smirked. "Anything for the lady killer."

"Shuddup," Sam said, chuckling.

"You get a number?" Dean asked grabbing Sam's shoulder as they turned to head out.

"No," Sam said softly.

"Too bad," Dean said, as they reached the car. "Might be good for you to have a girl. Pizza place down the street?"

"Yeah that's good," Sam nodded. "But I got a girl… a girlfriend… in Topeka."

"And you didn't feel the need to tell me?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I didn't want you to make fun of me."

Dean decided to let it go, he'd hound his brother about it later, now was a time for food and to figure out how they were going to dig up this teacher. He placed the keys in Sam's hand before opening the passenger's door.

"Chauffer me to pizza, bitch," he called. "I'm hungry."

* * *

Cemeteries that old were a hard to scope. The stones are too close together; many worn down by weather until they were unreadable. It took more time than Dean would have liked, but they found her. Too close to the church for comfort, but the building blocked them from the road, as long as they were quiet, it wouldn't be too difficult to stay out of sight. The stood shoulder to shoulder as they dug, neither talking, just doing their best to get the job done as quickly as possible. Dean kept waiting for Sam to complain, but he kept his mouth closed head down and dug.

Two thirds of the way through, as the both expected, a semi-transparent old woman appeared at the foot of the grave.

"Hit her with the crowbar," Dean instructed. "That should buy us enough time to finish digging it up."

Sam did as he was instructed, and the ghost disappeared with a whoosh. Unfortunately, however, she didn't disappear for very long. She appeared next to Dean shoving him backward out of the grave. Sam did what he could, slashing at the figure with the crowbar while helping Dean to his feet. Dean instructed Sam to stand guard while he finished digging. Sam stood above his brother swinging the rusty crowbar at random trying to keep his brother safe.

When Dean finally hit something solid and pulled himself out of the grave almost an hour later, Sam's arms felt like they weight a thousand pounds. No amount of training could have prepared Sam for winging around a crowbar for that long. He placed he crowbar down in a huff as Dean found the salt and lighter fluid in the duffle bag.

While Dean readied the remains to be burned, Sam huffed a few breaths.

"Dude," Dean said. "Don't let your guard down, she'll liable to show back up at any moment."

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Then before Dean had a chance to react, went flying backward toward the old church.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, toward between running to help and finishing the job. He lit a match and dropped it, watching the remains catch before taking off toward Sam. The translucent figure screamed and burned in front of Sam who lay awkwardly holding his wrist.

"I'm fine," Sam moaned as Dean tried to look at his hand. "I just landed on it weird. It's fine."

"No, Sammy," Dean shook his head. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"And tell 'em what?" Sam asked as Dean helped him up. "That I was thrown across a graveyard by a ghost?"

"Or that you fell off a bike?" Dean suggested. "Or a skateboard, or down the stairs. If that's broken, we're going to the hospital."

"Whatever, I'm fine," Sam shrugged him off.

"Well, I'm the oldest," Dean said. "So, emergency room it is."

"How we gonna pay for an emergency room visit?" Sam asked hissing as he tried to roll his wrist in a small circle.

"Let me worry about that," Dean replied, taking Sam by the shoulder and guiding him back toward the car. "You shouldn't have to worry about crap like that."

Sam shrugged as Dean pushed him into the passenger's seat. If there was something seriously wrong with his brother, he knew his dad would never let him forget it. He prayed silently as he walked around the car that there was nothing wrong, just a slight over reaction. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam.


	49. Chapter 49

"How's the hand?" Dean asked passing Sam a bowl of cereal Monday morning before school.

Sam had it wrapped up and on a bag of ice, like the doctor had instructed him to do three times a day for next two weeks.

"It stings," Sam nodded. "Still a little swollen, but I'll live. Thanks."

Dean sat down next to Sam at the table, slowly sitting h is coffee. "So… I guess you figured why you spraining your wrist I'd forget that you told me you have a little lady?"

"Oh my God," Sam groaned rolling his eyes. "Really, Dean, I'm trying to eat breakfast."

"Is it one of the girls you've had over here after school?" Dean pressed. "Those kids you play Dungeons and Dragons with in your room?"

"We're not playing Dungeons and Dragons you jerk," Sam glared through his bangs at his brother. "But yeah, one of my friends, Rachel."

"The blonde?" Dean smiled leaning back. "With the frizzy hair and braces?"

Sam nodded. "She's really nice."

"I'm sure she is," Dean replied.

"I know she's not, like, unrealistically hot like all the girls you go out with but…"

"Sam," Dean cut him off. "You like her?"

Sam nodded eagerly.

"That's all that matters," Dean ruffled his little brother's hair and stood up. "Finish that up; you're drivin' yourself to school before I change my mind."

"Awesome," Sam smiled. "Hey… um… later, can Rachel and Paul and my other friends come over?"

"Don't they come over every day that Dad's not here?" Dean answered.

"Well, yeah," Sam replied. "But now that you know Rachel's my girlfriend, doesn't that change stuff?"

"As long as you're not, you know, fucking her on the kitchen counter, I don't give a shit what you do," Dean shrugged, placing his coffee cup in the sink. "Let's go, bitch, I gotta be at the shop at eight."

* * *

They fell into a pretty easy routine, John was rarely around, seemed like Topeka was the perfect hub for them, at least for now. Dean took a drive through Lawrence once the first week of November, drove down the old street. There were little kids playing tag running back and forth across the road as he slowly cruised by. The old house had been rebuilt, a new family living there. He thought for half a second about stopping in, making something about to get him inside, but in the end he just drove the twenty minutes back to the apartment and remembered his mom the way he'd done every year since he was fifteen, with enough warm liquor to put himself into a dreamless sleep.

Sam got some award for playing soccer at a banquet in November. Dean sat in the back row of a crowded auditorium during Sam's performance of _Our Town_ clapping and screaming obnoxiously when Sam made his curtain call. Dean watched his little brother's budding romance with the kind of adorable blonde was they spent most every night studying for the SATs, which Sam scored a 1530 on at the end of November. Dean figured they'd book it out of there for Christmas, but Bobby came down to celebrate while John was in Michigan dealing with a Wendgio.

* * *

By March it looked like they were actually going to be in one town for a whole school year. Sam, of course was elated, but tried to keep his excitement to himself.

"I wanna ask Rachel to prom," Sam whispered across their bedroom late one night.

"Then ask Rachel to prom," Dean replied sleepily. "You don't have to get my permission. I don't give a shit what you do."

"You think we'll be here in May?" Sam said.

"Way things are going," Dean considered. "Good chance."

"You think she'll say yes?" Sam asked.

"You've been together since, what October?" Dean sighed. "Unless she has some other secret boyfriend she'll say yes. She seems pretty suck on ya, so I don't see her saying no."

"Will you lend me money to buy her flowers?"

"Yes, Sam," Dean answered. "I gotta wake up in five hours to go to work, so… if you could you know… shut up now."

"Can I drive the Impala to prom?"

"Sam," Dean said softly. "Go to sleep."

"Did you go to prom?"

"No, I was unconscious," Dean answered. "Or I'd dropped out already, something."

"Did you want to go to prom?" Sam asked sleepily. "We were in Amherst then right? Woulda gone with Olivia?"

Dean hadn't thought about Olivia in years, but Sam's sleepy mention of her name brought up a hundred questions he'd never get the answer to.

"Libby wasn't really a go to prom type of chick, Sammy," Dean replied. "She was more of a get drunk on the baseball field in her fancy dress type of girl. But I don't really think I would of even thought to ask her."

"Oh," Sam yawned, before finally falling asleep and snoring softly.

* * *

Dean snuck in after work a day the last day of April while Sam and Rachel leaned over a magazine at the kitchen table discussing prom.

"This is the color of my dress," Rachel said pointing at the glossy pages. "So you should get a tie that matches it. It will be really cute."

"Okay," Sam nodded. From Dean's angle it was pretty clear that Sam was staring down Rachel's shirt without her noticing.

"Are we getting a limo?" Rachel asked excitedly. "Becky and Leah said they're taking a limo with Paul and Drew."

"Umm…" Sam shook his head. "I can't really afford one… so I was thinking it would be cool if we took the Impala?"

"The big black car your brother drives?" Rachel asked. "That's basically a limo, if you washed it and cleaned it out so it was shiny and stuff."

"I can do that," Sam nodded.

"I'm holdin' you to that," Dean coughed passing though the kitchen and into the living room where John was sitting watching baseball on TV.

"I gotta job," John said, leaning forward and passing Dean a beer out of the six pack on the coffee table. "But I need you."

"Okay," Dean nodded popping the top of the bottle with his rings. "What we looking at."

"Not really sure," John confessed. "But there are six young men that have gone missing after last being seen at a bar in Junction City. Bodies turn up about three days later, drained of blood off I-70. If it keeps to pattern, should be taking the next guy Friday night."

"Friday night's Sammy's prom," Dean said.

"Prom's are mostly for the girl," John slurred. "Sam'll be fine, we don't gotta be here to see him off. But it's an hour away so we'd have to leave to make it there for happy hour before Sammy heads to the dance. I doubt he'll be too upset about having the house to himself after prom though."

"Whatcha need me for?"

"I ain't exactly a _young guy_ anymore, Dean," John chuckled. "Whatever this is likes 'em between 20 and 25, and now that you're legal; we can get you into the bar and hopefully figure it out before it takes anymore lives."

"So you need me as bait?" Dean asked.

"I need you as a partner," John corrected.

"Alright," Dean sipped his bear slowly. "What do we need to do?"

"I got a couple books of lore," John nodded to the books on the coffee table next to the six pack. "Just gotta narrow it down so we know what we're up against. Gotta know what it is before we can kill it."

So Dean spent that night reading up, narrowing down the possibilities in his bedroom while his dad watched a baseball game. Dean knew it was because John noticed that Dean always made Sam do the research that his dad wasn't being a jerk. John did a lot of research on the things they hunted. He was just trying to mold Dean into a better hunter, one that didn't have to rely on other people to get things done. He'd appreciate one day, but right now it was just annoying.

Sam came in to the room a little after ten.

"Hey, Dean," Sam asked softly. "So my birthday's on Tuesday."

"I know," Dean nodded. "It's been the same day for 17 years. I know when it is."

"No, it's just," Sam stammered. "I need a suit. And I was hoping maybe you could rent me one for my birthday or something. I also need a dark blue tie."

"We'll go to the mall after school tomorrow," Dean nodded.

"What are you doing?"

"Dad's got a hunt," Dean answered. "We're going to Junction City on Friday."

"Oh," Sam nodded. "That's prom."

"Yeah," Dean replied. "So you'll have the place to yourself."

"Cool," Sam said, letting out a long breath. "Rachel was asking what we were going to do afterward. I guess we can come back here if you won't be home."

"Just, you know, don't do anything that I wouldn't do," Dean smirked.

"Dean," Sam sighed.

"And be careful," Dean reminded him. "Rachel's real sweet. Just don't do anything stupid."

"We've talked about it," Sam confessed. "About doing it, sex. She… uh… she's kinda looking forward to prom night. It's real romantic and stuff."

"Girls like that," Dean nodded. "Just don't pressure her."

"I won't," Sam nodded. "I wouldn't. I'm gonna let her run the show."

"That's the best way to do it," Dean agreed.

* * *

Sam looked cute in his tux. Dean snapped a couple pictures before he handed his brother the keys and told him to be careful. He hoped Rachel's mom took pictures, because he honestly felt like he was missing the most important night of Sam's life so far going on this hunt.

He fought asking his dad how he could miss milestones like this, why it didn't bother him, but he ended up convincing himself not to. John had the business face on, it wasn't worth risking picking a fight with someone who was going to have your back in a very dangerous situation in a few hours' time.

Dean had gotten so used to driving that riding shotgun was just uncomfortable. He fidgeted and played with the radio dial as his dad drove until John yelled at him.

"Driver picks the music," John said. "You sit still and touching everything."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded.

"So what are you doing once we get there," John asked.

"I'm just going to go to the bar and wait," Dean recited. "Spin a tale of woe loud enough for others to hear. Look for a red head, since that's who the others were last seen with. Buy her a drink, strike up a nice conversation, get her to leave with me. I should try see if she'll take me to her place. You'll be watching, and when I leave you'll follow us. If she tries something, knife her with a silver blade."

"Good," John nodded. "Just don't get too hands-y. I know how you can get with ladies sometimes."

"I know how to do the job, Dad," Dean replied.

"Good," John nodded; turning up the radio so they wouldn't have to talk anymore, just let Blue Oyster Cult fill the car.

* * *

The bar was smoky, the usual haunt that Dean managed to find himself in, a couple pool tables in the back where his Dad set up camp, might as well make a couple bucks while monster hunting. Dean set up at the bar, ordering a beer, telling anyone who would listen that his girlfriend had just left him, something else all the other victims had in common.

"She just took off," Dean lied to the bartender. "She left a note tell me she didn't love me no more and all her shit was gone. I had no idea. I had no clue she was leaving."

He got a couple free shots from bar flies that felt bad for him. He kept one eye open hoping that a little red head would hear his fake pain and buy it.

A few rounds into the night, a busty redhead appeared at Dean's left shoulder, jack pot.

"Hey, sweetie," she smiled. "I couldn't help but overhear, you poor baby."

"She just…" Dean held his hands up in front of him. "She just left."

The woman ran her fingers through his hair, looking into his eyes.

Dean felt compelled to lean in, to kiss her. They were lip locked at the bar for a few minutes before Dean came up for air. This girl was beautiful, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"I wanna … I wanna…" Dean slurred. "We should leave."

"Okay baby," the woman said, running a hand down Dean's face. "Whatever you want."

"I want you," Dean nodded. "Like _right now_."

The woman giggled and pulled Dean away from the bar and outside.

"What do you drive sweetie," the woman breathed into his ear.

"My brother has the car," Dean answered. "He's going to prom."

"Oh, well then," the women pressed him up against the wall along the side of the bar away from the door.

Dean wanted to do bad things to this girl, right here in this parking lot where anyone could see him. He _needed_ her. He started to play with her shirt, work his hand inside. She seemed equally interested, playing with the buckle of his belt.

"How do you wanna do this?" Dean asked when he was able to break away from her face for a few moments. He then immediately started to suck in her neck.

"Will you take me against the wall?" She asked getting his pants open.

Dean nodded and they maneuvered themselves until her back was against the wall, legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Just a sec, though," Dean pulled away, her legs hit the ground as he reached for his wallet. "What's your name?"

"Kirsten," she answered as she watched him find the condom he always carried with him.

"Dean," he answered ripping the foil.

"We don't need that," Kirsten shook her head. "I'm on the pill."

"No chances," Dean replied rolling it on. He lifted her back up, wrapping her legs around him, kissing her deeply as he aligned himself.

Suddenly there was a shriek and Dean's forehead hit the side of the building as Kirsten's head slumped against his shoulder then her body slowly fell to the ground.

"You're an idiot," John sighed, bloody knife in his hand. "Put your junk away and help me with the body. I'm gonna back the truck up. Get ready to toss her in the back."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded confused as he tucked himself away. He picked up the heavy body by the shoulders and slid her into the truck bed and climbed around to the door and climbed in. Her face wasn't the face of the pretty girl Dean had been with moments before. She looked almost like a mummy, the gorgeous red locks became stringy and patchy. It took a bit of self-control for Dean not to puke thinking about what he had almost done with this creature.

"The fuck was that?" John said as they started to drive away. "I thought I made myself clear about getting hands-y with the creature?"

"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "She just… I don't know. She touched my hair, and then I just needed her."

"Stupid," John said under his breath.

* * *

They burned the body off the highway in an abandoned field where no one would notice the flames. They took off when the flames died down and hit up a bar closer to home.

"All in all, though," John slurred as it got close to last call. "You did real good."

"Thank you sir," Dean nodded. "I know I went off script, I don't really know what happened."

"You gotta know all the lore on what you're hunting," John said patting his son on the back. "You didn't know she could seduce you with a touch, went in handicapped."

"You knew?" Dean asked.

"Course I did," John chuckled. "Think I'd let a rookie do all the research on a hunt. I was testin' ya. You passed, by the skin of your teeth, but you passed."

Dean shook his head as he finished his beer. He was kind of pissed, it was bad enough being used as bait, but bait that had been fed wrong information, left to hang if John hadn't been paying attention. Dean sighed and did a few shots, trying to numb it. He'd have to research better next time. He'd know every possible thing he could about what they were hunting next time. He'd never let something like that happened to Sam if they went hunting together again. He'd learn to research better. Maybe even get Sam to teach him how, or Bobby next time they were up there. He'd do better. He'd learn. He'd make his Dad proud.

* * *

When they got back to complex, the Impala was in its parking spot, considering it was almost three in the morning, that was expected. John and Dean noisily made their way into the apartment. No matter how much they tried to keep quiet, being intoxicated made every little noise a million times louder.

"Good job tonight, kiddo," John whispered, wrapping an arm across Dean's shoulders and pulling him in tight against his chest. "You're still learning, but you did good. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks," Dean whispered, watching his dad walk toward the bathroom. Dean dropped his heavy leather jacket into a kitchen chair and pulled off his boot before heading to his bedroom. He opened the door and groped the wall to turn on the light.

He was greeted by something that would no amount of mental scrubbing would ever erase.

"Sorry," Dean said quickly, shutting off the light and closing the door. He leaned against it, eyes wide trying to process what he just saw.

John came out of the bathroom and stared at Dean.

"What?"

Dean held his hand out in front of his chest. "You'd never know, cuz she wears baggy shirts, but Rachel's got some tits on her. I'm gonna sleep on the couch. Don't go in there."

"What?" John shook his head.

"We should feed Sam more," Dean nodded as he flopped onto the couch. "Cuz he's _really_ skinny."

"What are you talking about?" John slurred.

"Prom night's not over for Sammy," Dean said into the couch cushions. "His pale, skinny ass just blinded me."

"Right," John said before going into this own bedroom. Dean heard the door close before reaching for sleep himself.

* * *

In the morning, Dean was awoken by Sam tapping him lightly on the arm.

"Hey, dude," Sam whispered. "Wake up."

Dean moaned and turned toward his brother, the sunlight from the window behind the TV blinding him the process.

"If you want a bed, I just brought Rachel home," Sam whispered. "I know this isn't the most comfortable couch in the world."

"Lady's just going home?" Dean smirked. "Good for you, kiddo."

"Shut up," Sam smiled.

"Sorry about last night, though." Dean said pushing himself up a little, then changing his mind and laying back down. "I didn't even think didn't meant to walk in on ya."

"I don't think she noticed," Sam shrugged.

"I turned the fucking light on," Dean sighed, placing a hand over his eyes to block the sun. "I don't think you're _that _good."

"She didn't say anything," Sam replied, plopping himself into the arm chair.

"Well either way," Dean said. "Tell her I'm sorry, and that I didn't see anything."

"Okay," Sam nodded.

"I'm just gonna sleep here though," Dean decided. "Can you get me a pillow?"

"Yeah sure," Sam said, standing up and returning with a pillow, throwing it at Dean before sitting back down. "I think I'm gonna do down town, catch up with the guys maybe."

"Brag about your sexual prowess?" Dean chuckled tucking the pillow behind him. "Leave a note, in case I forget."

"Alright," Sam answered. "I'll see ya for dinner."

Dean fell asleep again shortly after Sam left. He was happy for his little brother, proud even. Maybe now he wouldn't be so whiny all the time that he was getting some. Dean smile as he drifted into dreamland hoping to sleep off the rest of his hangover.


	50. Chapter 50

Sam starting acting weird when they left Topeka at the end of June, weirder than normal, Dean always thought that Sam acted weird. Sam's relationship with Rachel reached its own end before they ended up moving, young love might burn brightly but it doesn't usually burn for long. Sam was almost happy to be leaving town. Dean noticed that Sam was being weirdly secretive, hiding papers in his books, keeping the books with him so that Dean and their Dad wouldn't go through them. Dean had overheard some weird cryptic phone calls between Sam and Bobby, but Sam was always a little weirdo, so honestly, Dean didn't think too much about it.

John took Dean on more hunts over that summer. He got rid of a pair of cursed necklaces in Georgia. They were owned by a set of twins who inherited them from great aunt. Apparently it gave whoever wore them the power to compel others to the wears will. It was tricky, a lot of sketchy things over a weekend in June that Dean never wanted to think about again, but he walked out of their big southern plantation house wearing lead lined gloves clinching those necklaces tight.

A Woman in White along route 1 up the Maine coast, he was quite proud of that one, actually. He caught the pattern before his dad did, meaning he got to take the lead. The smile on John's face as Dean told him where to find the body was the greatest gift Dean had gotten in a long time. They got to spend a week living on beach between New Hampshire and Maine the week of the fourth of July as a reward.

A pagan fertility God in New Mexico; a whole weird town worshiping a very out of place tree, they were sacrificing tourists that had gotten lost on the way to Roswell to it. Dean hadn't really been all that much help with that one, the lore was confusing, but he stood there with his sharpened wooden stake when it came time to kill the thing, another job well done; a slap on the back, a cold beer, and big smile from his dad.

There was something that looked like demons in Wyoming in early August. Dean was pretty positive he knew what they were looking at, printed out a couple different exoticisms at the local library before heading to the house where all the action was. Dean had seen some really fucked up stuff in his life, but the bodies hanging like cattle set for slaughter in the basement of the old house were more disturbing then the disgusting piles of shed skin from a shape shifter. When his poorly pronounced Latin didn't even slow the creature running at him with the butcher's knife, he knew he was in trouble. His dad appeared just in time to kill it as Dean was being strung up in the foul smelling basement. Monsters he could understand, people… well people were fucking crazy.

The Winchesters settled into a summer home owned by someone who owed John a favor in upstate New York in late October. The place was nicer than any placed they'd stayed in recent memory, the boys didn't have to share a room and there was electricity and cable that they didn't have to steal from neighbors. An A plus kind of place as far as the boys were concerned. There was something weird going on in this town, seemingly random fires, insect infestations, missing people. John figured it was the best place to set up camp until they could fix whatever was going on. Their first night in New York, Dean met a witty brunette working at the pizza place down the road from the house, her name was Becca and her and Dean became inseparable pretty quickly. Sam seemed to be sucked into school work again, found himself a nice little group of friends to hang out with. Three or four people that only ever seemed to hang out at their house. Dean didn't mind all that much. He liked knowing what his brother was up to. John found it increasingly annoying to have so many extra teenagers in the house.

Dean was spending a lot to time at the pizzeria, most of the time that he wasn't working at the oil and lube place across the street. He was saving his money in a shoe box in his duffle bag. He wasn't really sure what he was saving for, but he felt it was important. Maybe he'd get someone real nice for Sammy for Christmas. He needed a new coat; his shoes were getting a little worn out. All the things that their dad should notice but never seemed to.

"My mom wants to meet you," Becca said the weekend after Thanksgiving. "Not, like, official or nothing, just wants to know who I'm hanging out with. She'll feed you."

Dean shrugged mouth full of free fries Becca kept sliding over to him when her managers weren't looking. "Can't turn down free food."

"I know," she smiled kissing him hard on the cheek. "Are you working on Wednesday? My mom has Wednesdays off from the hospital. And I have classes all day so I don't have a shift here, so we usually have dinner together."

"I work at the shop til four," Dean nodded. "But I can head over after if that's cool."

"Yeah," Becca nodded. "That would be awesome."

"Do you need me to bring anything," Dean asked. "Like wine or something?"

Becca laughed. "You don't have to impress her, just take a shower before you come over and tell her the food tastes good. Try not to smell like gas and everything will be okay."

"Mom's not into guys covered in oil and grease?"

"Mom has white walls and really nice furniture that she doesn't want covered in oil and grease," Becca smiled.

"Right then," Dean nodded, taking another handful of fries.

* * *

When he got back to the house, there was a big manila envelope from Bobby addressed to Sam sitting on the kitchen table. Dean picked it up, weighed it and placed it back down, probably had something to do with Sam being so weird lately. Dean climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor where all the bedrooms were located.

"You gotta package," Dean said sticking his head into Sam's room. "Big hulkin' thing on the counter."

"Did you open it?" Sam said quickly as he dropped the book he was reading on the floor and pushed passed Dean.

"No," Dean shook his head. "As you've pointed out before, opening someone else's mail is a _federal offence_."

"Who's it from?" Sam inquired as they walked downstairs together, Dean a step or two behind his brother.

"Bobby, from the looks," Dean shrugged. "What is it?"

"Nothin'," Sam shook his head as he grabbed the envelope. "Just some lore I asked Bobby for."

"You're a shitty liar," Dean smirked. "What is it? Is it porn?"

"You're disgusting," Sam rolled his eyes. "Why would I have Bobby send me porn in the mail?"

"Open it," Dean said. "I wanna know what it is."

Sam held the package up in Dean's face. "What's this say? Sam Winchester. You're name's not Sam."

"It actually says 'Samuel J. Winchester'," Dean smirked.

"Still not you, asshat," Sam replied. "Leave me alone."

"Why are you being so weird?" Dean asked turning one of the kitchen chairs around and straddling it.

"Why are you being so nosey?" Sam spat back.

"Come on, freak," Dean sighed. "None of us ever get mail."

"You get credit cards in the mail all the time!"

"Fake credit cards don't count as mail, Sammy," Dean replied. "Come on, don't be a little bitch, tell me."

"Don't… don't tell Dad," Sam whisper as he pushed himself up on the table next to this brother. "After… after I took the SATs last year, I got a couple of my teachers and my advisor in debate to write me recommendations. And this year I've been applying to schools and having the letters sent to Bobby's."

"Alright," Dean said. "What's that have to do with Dad?"

"These are all the letters from the schools I applied to," Sam said softly. "Bobby said from the looks of it I got in everywhere. Acceptance letters are considerably bigger than rejections."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "So open it."

"Dean," Sam sighed. "I… I'm leavin'. Next September I'm gone. I'm goin' to one of these schools in this envelope."

"Where'd you apply?" Dean asked trying to hide any emotion but happiness for his little brother. "University of South Dakota? Keep you close to Bobby."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "And Kansas, Michigan State, Stanford, Columbia, and UCLA."

"Whoa," Dean shook his head. "You're just gonna go off somewhere with no contacts close?"

"That's kind of the point of college, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "To get away; away from Dad, away from this life."

"Away from me, too?" Dean asked softly.

"No," Sam shook his head. "I… You… That's not what I'm doing. It's just… you know… you… you like this life. You like hunting, Dad respects you. He… Dad… he doesn't… I'm always gonna be the infant he saved from the flames. I'm never gonna be a hunter. I hate hunting, it's stupid. I'm not going to live my life for this crusade. I want to do something worthwhile."

"We are doing something worthwhile, Sammy," Dean defended. "We're avenging. We save people."

"Avenging a person I don't remember," Sam whispered. "I mean, it's a great code, Dean. But I can't. I wanna go to school. I want to have an education and do something that I can be proud of. I don't want to have to lie to people about what I do. I remember when you wanted to get out too, when you wanted to do something more. I want to do something besides living out of shitty motels and never being around long enough to have real relationships. I want a real life, Dean. A normal life. This is gonna get me that."

Dean stood up, ran a hand down his face. "Alright."

"Just… let me tell Dad," Sam said as Dean started to walk away. "And don't be mad. It's not about you, really. It's about me doing what's right for me. I'm still going to be your little brother. I just won't be in this house or whatever house you and dad decide is good enough."

"Alright," Dean repeated.

He went upstairs to his room and slammed so hard it bounced off the door jam and stayed open. He knew logically that Sam just wanted what was best for Sam, but that didn't make it feel like any less of a betrayal. Sam was always the smart one, always studied, worked hard in school. Sammy never wanted to do any of the training, hated running drills. It made sense that Sammy would want to go off and get a real good education somewhere. Dean had even imagined watching his kid brother graduate college when they were younger. But college cost money they didn't have. Dean had maybe a grand in his shoebox. That wouldn't pay for food for a semester, let alone tuition and those schools Sam applied to, those weren't cheap schools. He could put every dollar he made for the next four years into that box and it wouldn't pay for the education Sam deserved.

Sam appeared in the doorway about an hour later, knocking twice on the open door before stepping in.

"Are you mad?" Sam asked softly.

"No," Dean shook his head. "I just… it shouldn't be a secret. But, you know Dad…"

"Dad's gonna flip," Sam shrugged. "Whether I was straight up from the beginning or I hid it as long as possible. So I figure I keep in quite until I'm ready to go then tell him. I mean, what's the worst he can do? "

Dean looked down at his dirty hands and didn't answer.

Sam sat down at the end of Dean's bed with the envelopes from Bobby.

"Where'd you get in?"

"Everywhere," Sam smiled. "Kind of amazing considering my six thousand page school records. But I wrote my essay about how Dad raised us. Not the ghosts and shit, but the life on the road after mom died. How you and me had to adapt, work harder to be equal to everyone else."

"How you gonna pay for it?" Dean asked softly. "I got, like, a grand, maybe, that's not gonna cover any of it. I can only hustle so much outta bar flies, but not enough pay for Columbia."

"Scholarships," Sam answered. "South Dakota and Stanford are offering full rides, room, board, tuition, everything. I'd have, like, an on campus job or something. The rest are offering some stuff, not as much, but still really good offers. I could probably get grants and scholarships through school to cover the rest of depending on where I want to go."

"Good for you, kiddo," Dean nodded. "That's a pretty big deal, right? Full rides?"

"Yeah," Sam let a small smile cross his face. "A real big deal."

"Take ya out to dinner big deal?"

"You're not taking me to the pizza place so you can flirt with your girlfriend the whole time," Sam smirked. "But I guess if you want."

"Course I do," Dean said messing with Sam's hair. "You pick a place; I'll treat ya, alright?"

"Yeah, cool," Sam nodded.

I'm… I'm uh…" Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm proud of ya."

"Thanks," Sam looked down at the floor and played with this thumb nail until Dean let go. He then sprung out of the room like he'd been lit on fire.

* * *

John came home the next afternoon after a few days of dealing with vengeful spirit by the Canadian border. He didn't like leaving Sam alone, liked having Dean make sure nothing happened to him while he was out on the hunt. To Sam it was just another reason to try to get as far away as possible as soon as possible; to Dean it was just cautionary. Sam had hid all his college stuff between his mattress and box spring. He couldn't risk dad finding it and after the memorable instant when Sam was 12 finding a large mostly stolen porn collection in the same spot in Dean's bed it became a family rule that certain places would be sanctuary; a little bit of privacy in a life where they all lived on top of each other.

Dean was cooking dinner, a recipe that Bobby gave him; he'd been waiting for a house with a kitchen to try it out. John pulled a beer out of the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked.

"Easy," John replied. "Only took so long cuz the town recorders were shit. Took forever to find out where the son of a bitch was buried. How'd it go here?"

"Nothing special," Dean answered. "Becca wants me to go to her place for dinner Wednesday, Sam's gotta big English test on Tuesday. Livin' the Cleaver life."

"Good," John nodded. "Got anything about what's goin on here?"

"Nothing new," Dean shrugged. "No, wait; there was an ant problem at the college library. Becca was telling me. They had to shut it down, close the main building. Had to cancel classes for a day to fumigate everything. Becca was pissed cuz she had a lab. Could be related."

"Ants in November," John nodded. "Probably. Whatcha making?"

"Chicken stir fry, Bobby showed me last time we were up there," Dean answered. "Should be about, like, ten minutes. Sam was hungry."

"Sam's still growing I think," John sighed. "Hopefully, anyway, with what he puts back."

"What do you think going on around here, though?" Dean asked. "I don't think I've seen anything like it."

"Witchcraft," John said simply.

"Witches?" Dean chuckled. "Seriously? Like boil, boil, toll, and trouble, hocus pocus witches?"

"You've killed a werewolf and you don't believe in witches?" John smirked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, seems weird."

"Seems logical," John corrected. "Only thing that makes sense. Witches have control over nature, when they hold a grudge it can be lethal, make people disappear. I wouldn't want to cross one."

"How do we stop them?" Dean asked turning back to his skillet.

"Well, they're people," John sighed. "So they don't stand out that way. We gotta figure out who benefits most from attacks. That's usually the person who's control it. We work from there."

"Alright," Dean nodded.

"So how about after dinner we map it all out," John nodded. "You spend enough time at that pizza place to know people. Sam always knows what's going on in small towns like this. We'll see if we can figure it out."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

They spread a map across the table, using push pins to point out where each of the attacks were.

"We got missing mailman," John said sticking a pin into the post office. "Last seen here two weeks ago."

"Fire at the barn next to it," Dean stuck a pin there. "Owned by the mailman's family back several generations. Fire in the ambulance bay at the hospital."

"Bugs at the library," Sam said, sticking a pin there. "The grocery store, town hall, and a gas station, shutting down each for a day or two."

"Missing grocery store clerk," Dean said adding a second pin to the grocery store. "Last seen leaving work. And the waitress at the bar across the way, last seen leaving work as well."

"These don't look related at all," Sam said looking at the map.

"But the waitress at the bar was the mailman's niece," John said. "She worked at the hospital, too."

"Grocery clerk was a regular at the bar and also worked at the gas station," Dean added. "He was friends with Becca in high school. She also knew the waitress, just from living in town."

John sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"How about," Dean suggested. "I try to get more info about the other people and places involved from Becca at dinner on Wednesday."

"Probably easiest way to get information," John agreed. "So long as we don't have any bodies popping up we can take that time."

* * *

After showering and making himself look nice on Wednesday, Dean drove across town to Becca's for dinner. He knew Becca wasn't anything special, another in a string of semi-connections he'd made. He wasn't a "meet the parents" type of guy, but she'd met Sam so it only seemed fair that he met her mom. Becca's house was nothing special, a regular house with a fence, the kind of place that Sam would have loved to live in, probably would now that he was going off to college.

Becca's mom was a pretty woman, and an excellent cook. She prepared a pot roast with potatoes and assorted vegetables, a homemade blueberry pie for dessert. Becca kept smiling as Dean complement the cook and shoveled food into his mouth.

"What do you think about all the weird bugs and stuff?" Dean asked while he and Becca washed dishes. "The arsons and stuff? Weird right?"

Becca shrugged. "A little bit, those three disappearances are weird. Especially since they're all from one family."

"Really?" Dean probed.

"Yeah, the mail man, was the other two's uncle. Ray and Crystal were cousins. Makes it kinda look like they all just left town without telling anyone."

"Huh," Dean shrugged.

"Yeah," Becca nodded. "It's weird, but there's weird everywhere."

"You have no idea," Dean chuckled.

"Mom's a nurse in the emergency room," Becca continued. "Said the smoke and stuff in the ambulance bay was the worst thing we've had happen here in a _long _time. I mean it was a huge deal cuz it's not a real big hospital or anything and it's easy enough to reroute emergencies to the county hospital, but it was kind of ridiculous. Then the termites at the town hall the day before the election, super weird; but the town had been talking about moving voting from the town hall to school for _years_, but Mr. Conklin, the mail man, he's on the town counsel and he's been the main vote against it since day one. "

"Interesting," Dean nodded.

"Yeah," Becca nodded. "With him bein' missing and all, they're gonna have a vote to replace him next week. Mom's boyfriend, Roger, has been running against Mr. Conklin for, like six years. Looks like he'll finally get his chance."

"Huh," Dean nodded. "Good for him."

"Yeah," Becca nodded. "Mom's pretty excited about it. Roger hasn't stopped talking about the town council since Mr. Conklin disappeared. It's been his life goal as long as I've known him."

"What about the other two missing people?" Dean asked.

"Mom knew Crystal pretty well," Becca nodded. "They worked the same shifts sometimes, I think they were up for the same promotion, but I'm not sure. Mom has worked at the hospital way longer that Crystal so even if they were, Mom would have got it anyway. I don't' know too much about Ray really. We didn't really travel in the same circles in school. Mom knows his mom, Mr. Conklin's sister. Says that Ray was really getting his life together."

"Huh," Dean nodded. He cataloged all the information to relay to his dad when he got home, it was looking like they had a few good suspects for who was playing witch in the town after all.


	51. Chapter 51

Dean juggled the information that he'd received from Becca overnight and during the next day while he changed oil on Soccer Mom's minivans as he hoped his boss would trust him enough to start doing body work because this shit was getting really annoying. Occasionally he would glare at Smitty, the senior member of the "Express Lube and Oil" crew, just hoping he'd spontaneously combust. It wasn't that Smitty was a bad guy, he was just didn't believe that a 21 year old kid who showed up out of nowhere knew what he was doing. Dean knew he could do better work that that guy, but he also knew he'd never have a chance to show it off.

He walked home, because the shop was less than a block from the house, and as much as he liked taking the Chevy out, it was better to keep her in a garage this time of year than in a parking lot with the guys he worked with.

"Hey, Dad," Dean said as he walked through the door. John was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. "What's the actual timeline of events for the case that we're working? Not just what happened, but in, like, what order?"

"Bugs at the gas station and grocery store," John replied. "That's what got my attention brought me here. Then once we got here at the town hall. Then the fire at the barn, then the mail man, then the hospital, then the other two disappeared then the thing at the school."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "So umm… I might have found someone who benefits from every single event."

"So recon went good at Becca's?" John smiled.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "You can say that. You said witches can be _anyone_ right? Cuz Becca's mom's boyfriend is most likely getting the mail man's town council seat."

"What's that gotta do with everything else though?" John asked.

"Just the way Becca was talking," Dean said. "Everything benefited him or Becca's mom. It was kinda weird. So I looked him up. This Roger guy wants to open a new gas station. Sept the mail man, Mr. Conklin, who's on the council is the only vote holding him back. So if Roger gets his seat, he can get his gas station. 'Specially since now no one wants to go to the one where you'll liable to get stung by bees. By getting rid of the guys other family in town, kinda looks like he was trying to get rid of anyone who could pass it off on him. "

"Sounds like a good lead, but witches usually are women," John said. "Just are I've never run into a male witch. Might want to look into your little girlfriend's mom."

Dean scoffed. "No way, she's a sweet lady. Nothing about her screams 'witch' to me."

"She doesn't have green skin and mole?" John rolled his eyes. "They can be _anyone_ Dean. And they can change their appearance, make themselves look more appealing. Not every witch is the Wicked Witch of the West; Glida the Good Witch was a witch, too, Dean."

"Yeah, but," Dean rolled his shoulders and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Their house wasn't witchy. There wasn't, like, cauldrons and bats or nothing."

"People, Dean," John rolled his eyes. "They're people. If you walked in here, would you think we were hunters? Do we have guns on the walls? Dart boards with shifters and werewolves on them? No, normal house. You don't gotta advertise your lifestyle for it to be real."

"Right," Dean nodded. "So what now?"

"Now you gotta do some more recon on the mom," John answered. "Find out what her end game is, I'll find a way to take her down."

"Right," Dean nodded. "She just seems like such a nice lady."

"Not if she's disappearing people," John shrugged.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "I'm gonna go fill Sammy in."

"Right," John said. "I'm hittin' KFC for dinner, in about an hour."

* * *

Sam sat on his bed going through his college stuff when Dean knocked and opened the door slowly.

"Hey," Sam said softly looking up. "What's going on?"

"Dad thinks Becca's mom's the witch," Dean shrugged. "I don't really know."

"Well, Dad's never liked any girl you've ever dated," Sam smirked. "That is the most inventive way he's come up with to make you break up with someone."

"Shut up," Dean shook his head. "That has nothing to do with it. I think he's gotta point, actually. If she is, though, serious hit to the sex life."

"Is that why you came in here?" Sam sighed. "Cuz I don't care about your sex life. I don't think it would be possible to care any less about your sex life."

"No," Dean smiled. "Just wanted to see what you were up to. I feel like I don't see ya anymore."

"Cuz you don't," Sam blinked. "We have different rooms, so we can actually, you know, breathe and whatever. I don't have to listen to you whisper to random girls to keep quiet cuz you're little brother's in the room."

"That was _one_ time asshole," Dean defended. He took the chair from Sam's desk and spun it around before sitting down. "And I was drunk. That's not what I mean, anyway. I meant, like, with you being all secretive about school and whatever, we don't talk. And if you're really going off somewhere, I'm never gonna see you again."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever _Mom_, I'm not leaving forever. I'll just be going to college. And I'm not leaving until, like, August, so we got plenty of time for you to go through old photo albums and cry."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean chuckled. "No, like what's going on with you? You fitting in here and stuff?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Much as I usually do. I got friends and whatever."

"Girlfriend?" Dean smirked.

"Always about girls with you isn't it?" Sam blushed.

"You got a name to live up to," Dean replied smirking.

"I've gotta girl I'm talking to," Sam whispered. "We're just friends. She said she doesn't want to get too serious. She's saving herself or whatever so she doesn't want to label it. She's a sophomore and stuff so I get it. But she's nice and stuff."

"That's why you gotta go after older ladies, Sammy," Dean smiled. "Experience."

"You're gross," Sam said, blinking. "Life isn't about sex Dean. Stuff with her is really nice, there's no pressure or whatever."

Dean shrugged. "Just wanna make sure you're well-adjusted before I send you out into the world."

"I'll be fine," Sam rolled his eyes. "All this ghost hunting really set me up to be _incredibly well-adjusted_."

"Alright then," Dean shook his head. "What about this school thing, what are you doing with that? What are you going to study?"

"I'm thinking pre-law," Sam answered.

"Why?"

"Well, you mostly," Sam shrugged. "You're gonna get arrested for something stupid and you're gonna need a lawyer."

"Thanks," Dean rolled his eyes. "Where are you gonna do this thing?"

"Like where I'm gonna go?" Sam asked.

"South Dakota, right?" Dean said seriously. "You're gonna go to South Dakota so Bobby can keep an eye on you for me and Dad so don't gotta worry about you all the time."

Sam shook his head.

"Stanford," Sam said. "I'm gonna go to Stanford. It's the best one, really. They've got the best offer, and honestly I liked their campus the most. I just really, it felt like home. It was nice being there. I can picture myself there. I'm sending the paperwork in tomorrow on the way to school."

"Wait, when'd you go see it?" Dean demanded.

"Over the summer," Sam said chewing on his bottom lip. "While you and dad were in Wyoming, Bobby and I went to California and Michigan, checked it out before decided where I wanted to apply."

"You and Bobby," Dean scoffed and shook his head. "You took Bobby on college trips?"

"Well, if I thought you'd be cool with it," Sam shrugged. "I would have asked you. I figured you'd freak so I did it all in secret. If I knew you weren't going to tie me up and lock me in the trunk of the car for thinking about college I would have asked you to come with me."

"Sure," Dean nodded. "I'm sure you would have."

"Dean, this isn't about you," Sam sighed. "It's about my life and what I'm going to do. You got gotta get all defensive and take it personal, okay?"

"I'll try," Dean nodded. "It's just, you know, it feels… I'm not talking about my feelings. You wanna try to help with this witch thing? See if we can figure out a way to get a witch to show herself or whatever."

"Might as well," Sam shrugged. "I'm not really doing anything _important_. Nothing to do with my future."

"You can always just say no," Dean clenched his jaw tight and glared at Sam before standing and leaving the room.

* * *

The Winchesters decided the best way to figure out if Becca or her mom were actually the witch was to have Dean continue to poke at them until they slipped up, said something the revealed them. Dean was cool this that, anything that got him away from the pressure cooker he was living in. It wasn't going to take too much longer for John to figure out that Sam was hiding something, and if Dean knew anything, it was how much Sam hated having his privacy invaded.

The "weirdest" thing Dean could find about Becca was that she hated his amulet. She made him take it off when they were intimate but wouldn't take off her own necklace, which hung much the same way the amulet hung on Dean.

"It's cold and it hits me in the face," Becca pouted running her hand down his chest and the leather strap. "Would you like it if a tiny cold thing continuously slapped you in the chin? It's distracting."

"If I'm taking this off, you're taking that off," Dean smirked. "Only fair."

"First time it hits you in the face," Becca replied.

"My brother gave me this," Dean said, trying to stop her as she pulled it off over his head and tucked it in his front pocket.

"My mom gave me mine," Becca replied. "She's got one just like it that she got from her mom. Mine's special too, but it doesn't hit you in the face when we're sleeping together, so I'm not taking it off."

"What is it?" Dean asked. He tried to touch it, but Becca slapped his hand away. It looked like a little crescent moon.

"Something my grandma picked out when she was little," Becca shrugged. "I didn't ask for a history lesson, it's just something that our family does when a girl turns 13. Don't you have family traditions?"

Dean half smiled and shrugged. Maybe at one point they did, but they were lost years ago, burned up in a fire one cold night in November.

In the end though, Dean would live with not wearing his amulet for an hour if it meant having Becca do the things she liked to do to him; but it did make him think about Becca's silver pendant that lay between her breasts.

* * *

"What's it look like?" John demanded when Dean replied the information about the necklaces.

"Like a moon," Dean repeated. "Fingernail moon."

"A _fingernail moon_?" John sighed. "What the fuck is a fingernail moon?"

"You know," Dean drew a backward C in the air. "A fingernail moon, looks like a fingernail."

"A crescent moon?" John sighed.

"If that's what a fingernail moon is called, then yeah," Dean shrugged. "I don't know spacy- astrological crap. She said her mom and her grandmother have them too. So that might be a witch thing."

"Could be," John nodded. "I've seen stuff like that before."

"So what now?" Dean asked. "It's not like I can just be like 'Hey, Becca, is your mom a witch?' I don't think that would go over well."

"We confront them," John smirked. He flipped the shotgun he was cleaning closed with a snap. "Figure out what's going on."

Dean nodded. He wasn't too sure about this, wasn't sure if he was missing a huge piece of information or if he was just slow to catch on to what his dad had already figured out.

"Sam!" John bellowed, his deep voice echoing in the house. "Get your ass down here we need you."

* * *

Dean drove them to Becca's house in the Impala and was about to get out and the walk down the front walk and knock on the door when John grabbed his shoulder to stopped him.

"No," John shook his head. "Go around back. We're gonna do some spying."

"Illegal," Sam coughed.

"Sam," John said in a warning tone.

"I'm not about to Peeping Tom Dean's girlfriend," Sam rolled his eyes.

John handed Dean a pair of binoculars.

"When the cops come by," Sam said. "I'm saying you kidnapped me. That you took me when I was a baby and forced me into a life of crime."

"Sam," John said, teeth clinched tightly.

"You made me come with you," Sam shrugged. "You don't need me. You've done fine on these things for years without me."

"You're asking for backhand, boy," John said glaring over the bench seat to where Sam had laid himself out in the backseat.

"Go right ahead," Sam shrugged.

"Stop," Dean said quietly. "Let's just get this job done. You can fight later."

"I'm gonna go around back of the house," John said. "See what I can see. I want you to watch the front. Sam, I brought you here to be the lookout. Think you can handle it?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"Excuse me," John said, like he was expecting Sam to do what Dean always did, straighten his back and say a "Sir, yes Sir" but Sam would never give him that satisfaction.

"I said yeah," Sam repeated a little bit louder. "I can handle it."

John shook his head and popped the door open. Both boys watched as their father walked through the shadows to the back of the house.

"Can you just fake it?" Dean said when John disappeared into the darkness. "Just play nice for a little bit. He won't be as bad if you just give him what he wants."

"Dad always says respect has to be earned," Sam shrugged, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket so he could read the book he brought in the dark. "Two way street."

Dean sighed and put the binoculars to his face. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, he didn't think that Becca or her mom would be in full view of the street in robes and pointed hats brewing potions in the kitchen. Dean's cell phone rang in his pocket, his dad's voice came across the line.

"Get back here," John whispered. "I think we got 'em."

"Right," Dean answered. He pressed the end button and tossed the phone over the seat to Sam. "If anything weird happens, call Dad."

"Right," Sam nodded not moving to pick up the phone that lay between his knees or looking up from his book.

"Sammy," Dean sighed. "Keep me alive, please, I'm serious."

"I will!" Sam groaned looking up. "I've been a lookout before freak, I can do it."

"Thank you," Dean nodded before getting out of the car and following the path is father took to the back of the house. "What we got?"

"Look," John pointed at the back sliding glass door. Becca's mom was stirring something in a big pot on the stove, reading out of what looked like an old leather bond book.

"She's cookin' dinner," Dean replied. "Not that weird, Dad. It's seven o'clock at night."

"You see what she's putting in there," John said. "She ain't making soup."

Dean looked closer, but honestly couldn't see what his dad was talking about. It just looked like a regular kitchen.

"That book," John said as Dean studied the scene. "It ain't no cook book. It's a book a spells. I've seen one like it before, way back. That's old magic, Dean, real old magic. She's mixing up something witchy."

"Right," Dean nodded, trying to sound like he understood.

"Follow my lead," John instructed.

Dean followed his dad as he crept toward the house. Dean stayed in a bush next to the door as John pushed his way in. Dean didn't want to move, didn't want Becca or her mom to think that Dean was some kind of criminal breaking into their house, so he waited until he heard his dad say something that would make him believe his dad was right, before moving. When he heard gunshots, which was as good a sign as any, he jumped out of his hiding spot and headed inside the quiet, normal looking suburban home. He saw his dad pressed up against a wall, Becca's mom standing across the kitchen with her hand raised.

"Oh," Becca's mother smiled turning to Dean. "This is _your_ doing. You brought a _hunter_ into my house."

"Don't touch him," John rasped, like he was being chocked.

Becca appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room; the two locked eyes for a moment before Becca turned to her mom and said. "Just put him down, Annette, it's not like he can actually hurt us."

Annette lowered John back to the ground. He placed his hands on his knees gasping for breath.

"Thought you'd work it out," Becca smiled wickedly. "All those questions. You might not be the brightest bulb but I figured you'd have someone to help you put the pieces together."

"What?" Dean said dumbfounded.

"Asking about what was going on around here," Becca's evil smile grew larger as she walked toward him. "I thought I threw you off with all the Roger talk, but looks like your dad is smarter than that. Was trying to get me to take my necklace off his idea too? Is that how you figured it out?"

"Yes," John coughed. Dean stood frozen, wide eyed. "That's how I got it."

"I… I…" Dean's eyes flicked form John to Becca. "But… you…I… you… we… but you're…"

"Spit it out baby," Becca said, running a finger up the side of Dean's face.

"How long have you been at this?" John asked, finally regaining his air.

"A while," Annette answered. "You're the first to catch on though. Been demolishing towns like this one for centuries."

"_Centuries_?" Dean couched.

"Should have split up the bug infestations," John smirked. "That's how I picked up the scent. Y'all got sloppy."

"Centuries?" Dean said a little bit louder this time.

"If no one's ever caught on, why the up the body count?" John asked leaving Dean's unanswered.

"Bored," Becca shrugged. "Needed some liver for the pantry. And poor Mr. Conklin was just so nosey. Then his niece and nephew weren't going to give up until they found him. And, well, you know, you can never have enough fingernails and human skin lying around."

"Gross," Dean sighed.

"You were gonna look _really_ pretty on our wall too," Annette smile toward Dean. "Too bad you had to ruin it all."

Dean lost control over his body as Annette raised her hand again, this time throwing both Dean and John against the wall.

"Now where just going to have to get rid of you," Annette shrugged.

Becca and her mom both walked toward the Winchesters, Annette was carrying a very large knife, running it up and down Dean's arms.

The sound of gun fire filled the room. None of the bullets hit anyone, just the cabinets over the sink. Sam was standing in the doorway, gun pointed away from everyone.

"Let them go," Sam's eyes were focused on Becca.

"Aww," Becca turned. "Wittle Broder came to help out."

Sam aimed the gun at Becca and pulled back the hammer. "I'll shoot you."

"Sammy," Dean gasped trying to pull himself off the wall. "Just get out."

Annette turned her attention to Sam as well, leaving Dean and John to fall back to the floor. John grabbed the strap of Dean's amulet and nodded toward the women. Dean nodded, knowing what he had to do. He pulled the knife he kept sheathed on his ankle and slowly stood up.

"You don't mess with my family," Sam said, an eerie calm over his face. "Cuz I will end you."

Dean slipped his knife carefully up Annette's back and slices the leather of her necklace, John mimicked Dean with Becca.

Becca let out a blood curdling scream. She tried to run toward Sam as her skin started to turn a disgusting shade of gray and her dark hair turned white and started to fall out. Annette became a pile of ash on Dean's shoes before he could comprehend what was happening.

"Sammy," John ran toward the boy who was slowly lowering his raised arm. He pulled Sam into a hug while Dean stared at Becca as she decomposed in front of his eyes. She lay on the floor as a shriveled corpse.

"What the fuck," Dean let out a long slow breath then yelled. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"Witches," John let go of Sam and turned around shaking his head. "Nasty bitches, I warned you."

"I had…" Dean felt physically sick looking at what remained of Becca. "I had sex with that."

"You did say you liked older women," Sam laughed.

"Not funny," Dean said eyes still wide with horror.

"We gotta get outta here," John announced. "That many gun shots someone's gonna call the cops."

John stepped over the body and the ash on the floor to the back door, slipping out like he'd slipped it. Dean stood frozen until Sam grabbed his arm.

"Come on," Sam urged. "Don't need you getting' arrested now."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He turned and followed Sam out into the darkness.


	52. Chapter 52

Sam was _never_ going to let Dean leave down the fact that not only was Becca a witch, but a _centuries old_ witch if his uncontrollable laughter that started when they got back to the car to was any indication.

"She was probably someone's great-great grandmother," Sam laughed so hard that he could barely breathe. "When you told me to look for girls with experience I didn't think that was what you meant."

"Knock it off, Sam," Dean sighed, shaking his head, but smirking to himself at the same time. "You keep it up you're gonna piss yourself. Then you get to clean my car."

Hearing Sam laugh like that always did something to him that he could explain. Sammy's laugh made Dean feel like there weren't horrible things out there; nothing bad could happen if there was someone laughing like that. When Sam started to breathe normal he would look up at Dean over the backseat and lose it again.

"She told me she was twenty," Dean said leering at his brother through the rearview.

"Eight hundred and twenty, maybe," Sam wheezed. "This is too rich."

"You're gonna pop a blood vessel," Dean sighed.

"I'll stop laughing when it's not funny," Sam laughed. "Never gonna make fun of a girl I bring home now are ya? Cuz you fucked a freakin' zombie witch."

"What your language, Sammy," John sighed. Clearly John didn't think that it was funny as Sam did.

"I'm sorry, but did you see Dean's face?" Sam continued. "Looked like he was going to hurl all over everything. It was beautiful. I wonder if you can catch, like, zombie witch through your dick. That would be one hell of an STD. Your dick would be all old and shit."

Dean looked over at his Dad smiled and shrugged. He hoped it said "Just let him be. Let him laugh." John reached over and turned up the radio, drowning out the wheezing gasps and giggles of the teenager in the back seat.

* * *

It didn't take long after arriving home to ruin the mood completely. As soon as they were settled back in: Dean and Sam on the sofa a bowl of popcorn between them watching a VHS Star Wars that Dean found at the Goodwill, John paced behind them, sucking back a beer.

"We should leave in the morning," John announced.

"Christmas break is in two weeks," Sam sighed. "We can shake town then. I gotta big trig test on Thursday and a physics lab due tomorrow."

"We just killed two people," John said. "We gotta get outta here before they track it to us. We don't exactly got a car that blends in."

"Yeah, but I'm her boyfriend," Dean offered. "I'd have a reason to be there. There's a reason for my fingerprints in her house. That should buy us the two weeks until school break."

"I'm not leaving," Sam replied, pausing the movie and turning around. "I know you couldn't care less about my grades, but they mean a lot to me and I'm not screwing my GPA because you can't sit still."

"Sam," John said with more patience in his voice than either of the boys had heard in a long time. "You did real good tonight. I'm really proud of what ya did, you save Dean's hide, _my_ hide, but kiddo, I'm still in charge and if I say pack up the car, you're gonna pack up the car."

"No," Sam shook his head. "Can't make me."

"I can and I will," John said.

"Like to see you try," Sam answered. He turned back to the TV and un-paused the movie.

John reached over the back of the couch and ripped the remote out of Sam's hand. He paused the movie and threw the remote toward the coffee table. It skidded across the table and landed on the floor with a loud smash. Dean shifted awkwardly, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Please don't," Dean said softly. "We had a good hunt. Can we just not fight? We can talk about moving this weekend."

"You think my orders are a joke?" John boomed ignoring Dean's quiet plea. "You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want with no consequences?"

"No," Sam sighed. "I just think I should be able to call bullshit when you're being ridiculous. I want to finish out the quarter, or at least stay _two weeks_ until Christmas break. I think if you _cared_ about either of us, you'd let us put down some roots every once and a while."

"Pull your head out of your ass, Sammy," John shook his head. "You're seventeen; it's about time to put on some big boy pants. I'm really sick of baby-ing you."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam laughed darkly. "I don't think you've ever _babied_ me. I don't think you've ever _parented_ me."

"Sam," Dean grabbed Sam's bicep, trying to calm him down. "Just walk away. Let it be."

"No," Sam shook his brother off, then turned back to his father. "You think my education is a joke? Cuz I don't think it is. I've been working my ass off to get good grades my whole life. You ripped the both of us out of school so often that Dean couldn't even finish. Imagine what he could have done if we lived in one town our whole lives? He's not stupid, like you seem to want to push into his head. If he had the right people looking out for him he'd be in college somewhere. But you're too stubborn and stuck on the thing that killed mom to let us have a life."

"Stop," Dean repeated, a little louder this time.

"Have you ever once looked at the two of us and realized that you've failed both of us?" Sam shook his head. "That you're a miserable excuse for a father? Does it keep you up at night? Is that why you drink so much? Cuz you can't stand the person you've become."

"Sam!" Dean yelled. "Stop."

"No, Dean," John shook his head. "Let him finish. You got anything else you wanna say?"

"I got a lot I wanna say, actually," Sam continued. He pushed up off the couch and glared at his dad.

"Go upstairs, Sam," Dean demanded, jumping up himself. He grabbed Sam's arm hard, squeezed tighter as Sam tried to pull away. "Just go upstairs and cool off."

Sam tried to pull away from Dean, but Dean held him until he thought Sam was cool enough to listen to reason.

"Just go upstairs," Dean said softly. "Just go cool off. I'll fix it okay?"

Sam nodded, nose still flared as he turned and stormed up stairs. Both John and Dean waiting until the door slammed before saying anything.

"Shoulda let him keep going," John shook his head and drained the rest of the beer in his hand.

"And say something you'd both regret but be too stubborn to apologize for?" Dean replied. "No thanks."

"We're still leaving," John said as he walked to the fridge. "We're getting out of here as soon as possible."

"How about you head out," Dean suggested. "Go get settled somewhere or head up to Bobby's or whatever, and Sammy and I will meet you there when school goes on break."

"I'm not givin' in, Dean," John said twisting the top off. "I'm not letting a seventeen year old call the shots."

"He just wants to go to school," Dean shrugged. "He's a good kid, really. He just wants to do good in school. It's his thing, you know that."

"How's a trig test gonna help him in this life, Dean?" John asked. "He should be honing his skills, he's strong, he's fast, if he gave a shit about anything he'd be training."

"You know he's not gonna do that," Dean replied. "He's been draggin' his feet about that since he was eleven. You keep pushing him, Dad, he's gonna take off again. And Bobby's not going to be able to bring him back. He's gonna disappear and neither of us will ever see him again."

"Nah," John shook his head. "Sammy wouldn't do that."

"He already did it once," Dean yelled. "You're gonna push him away again."

"Don't raise your voice at me," John straightened up, took a step toward Dean. "Maybe the two of you deserve each other."

Dean wasn't one to just walk away from a fight. He'd taken guys down that were bigger than his dad. Left a biker who didn't take to kindly to how close Dean was sitting to his lady with a broken nose and got outta there without a scratch. But there was something about his dad; Dean knew if it ever came to blows Dean would just let it happen. He'd never have it in him to fight back. So he stood there, waiting, as John got right up in his face.

"Go fix your brother," John growled. "I expect the two of you at Bobby's the Sunday the Christmas break starts. You don't show up, I'll come find ya, and neither of you will like what comes after."

"Yes, sir," Dean said quickly. "I'll go tell Sam."

Dean stood frozen until John stepped out of his space. Then he turned and walked up the stairs. He knocked twice on Sam's door before opening it sliding in. Sam was throwing his stuff into a duffle bag.

"Dad says we can stay until break starts," Dean said softly. "Then we gotta meet him at Bobby's, but he's leaving in the morning."

"Alright," Sam growled. He picked a book up off his bed and threw it against the wall. "He's just… what if we just didn't go to Bobby's. Why don't we just go somewhere? Let's just go, get away."

"We can't," Dean shook his head. "He said he'd find us. I just… Sam… I can't. He's… he might be a jerk sometimes but that's our dad. He's all we got."

"I know," Sam nodded. "And he's an asshole who doesn't know what he's doing and he's got you held down so tight that you don't know how to get away."

"It's not like that Sam, okay," Dean said.

"Then why are you still here?" Sam yelled. "Why are you still following him like a little puppy that's been kicked one too many times?"

"I tried," Dean said so quietly that of Sam wasn't looking at him he wouldn't have known Dean said anything. "I had this whole plan of taken off, setting up a nice place then go get you a few years back. Had this whole little fantasy that you'd get to finish high school all in one spot. I'd get a nine to five or whatever, do jobs on the weekend and stuff when one came along. I had a nice girl and everything it was gonna be great. But Dad… he… Dad said that if I walked out the door I couldn't come back. Told me that no one would take me in, that girl I was with would never take responsibility for a kid too. I wasn't gonna leave you behind. I couldn't… I couldn't just leave you there. You'd kill each other."

"You coulda got out?" Sam looked at him with such disappointment in his eyes. "You shoulda got out."

"I wasn't gonna leave you behind, Sam," Dean said seriously. "I'd never fuckin' leave you behind. It's my job to watch out for you, I can't just leave you somewhere. It's not…" Dean rubbed as hand down his face to keep himself from crying. "It's my job to protect you. I can't do that if I'm shakin' up with some girl playing house and you're out there with Dad."

"Yeah," Sam shook his head. "And Dad shouldn't make you feel like you got no control over your own life. Dad shouldn't have put that much weight on you. You deserve better, Dean. This is _exactly_ why I didn't tell you and Dad about school. This is why I'm holding off telling him about it until the last possible moment."

Dean nodded and sat down at the foot of Sam's bed.

"You should… you should come with me," Sam mumbled. "You can go to school there, too. I gotta live on campus the first year because of my scholarship, but after that we can get an apartment. I'll have a campus job making money."

"I don't think they let people who barely pass the GED test into Stanford, Sammy," Dean shook his head.

"They got some community schools there," Sam pleaded. "You can learn a trade, you're good with math, you can get an engineering degree, or learn to be an electrician or something, open your own body shop. And it's California, right, so you can find hunts of you want. We can just get away."

Dean shook his head, he left the "I can't" unspoken, but he knew Sam knew him well enough to know what he meant.

"We got two weeks to ourselves," Dean nodded. "Whatcha wanna do? We throwing a huge party or something for all your friends or something right after Dad leaves? I can get a couple kegs, throw a party that kids in this town will be talking about forever?"

"No," Sam said, the small traces of a smile on his face. "My friends aren't really the _party_ type."

"We'll," Dean let a little smirk tug at his lips. "We can have, like, an all-night D and D thing."

"We don't play dungeons and dragons, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "We can just, you know, chill I guess. Make the most of having the house to ourselves."

"That's what I suggested," Dean replied. "Big ass party."

* * *

They didn't have a party. Dean ended up working as many hours as he could at the garage, putting money in his shoe box. Sam worked on his homework every night at the kitchen table. Making sure he'd have excellent grades in all his classes before the left, they never knew what they'd offer for classes in the next town they ended up in. Dean tried to help, but what Sam was taking was a lot different than the stuff he'd done in high school. His little brother was going to go somewhere with that big brain of his. He was going to shock all those rich Stanford kids that a kid with no real home could be just as good as them. Honestly, Dean couldn't wait to listen to his brother talk about it; maybe over the phone, maybe at Bobby's over Christmas dinner next year. Sam caught Dean sitting across the room staring at him smiling stupidly until Sam told him it was fucking creepy.

John checked in from Ohio, it looked like they'd be heading there next. He'd have Sam enrolled in school before they got there, an apartment. Both boys knew that their dad would never say he stepped over the line, that he let an argument get out of hand. Promising that Sam would get to graduate from this high school was as close to an apology as they'd ever get. Things were going to get better, Dean could feel it. John and Sam had enough time apart to cool down. They'd give each other silent head nods when they saw each other and it would be forgotten. They'd be fine. For the next six months anyway.


	53. Chapter 53

_AN: Okay so this was WAY easier to write than I ever imaged writing this chapter would be. I hope I did okay. _

* * *

Sam stood in the middle of the room he shared with Dean in Ohio in a maroon graduation gown. He looked stupid, but it was hard to look cool in one of those things. Dean had bought a handful of disposal cameras for the day and clicking away as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Really?" Sam sighed. "You can stop now."

"Big day, kiddo," Dean replied, a huge grin plastered to his face. "Put the hat thing on, I need pictures of you wearin' that too."

Sam picked it up and put it in its place, he pushed his hair behind his ears and gave Dean the finger as he played photographer, trying to get every possible angle of Sam in his graduation robes.

"You're a freak," Sam smile. "There will be grandmas at this thing who'll take fewer pictures that you have."

"I only got one kid brother, and he only graduates high school once. And since you're going off the college in the fall, I gotta have something to remember you by."

"It's not like you'll never see me again," Sam shook his head.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "But it might be a while."

"You gonna put 'em in a frame with little hearts and shit?" Sam chuckled. "Pine over me while I'm at school, tell people of your long lost love?"

"Shut up," Dean punched Sam hard in the arm. "I'm just proud of ya. This is a big deal, high school graduation."

"You don't gotta make it a telenovela, Dean," Sam softly punched Dean in the shoulder.

"Right," Dean nodded.

He was just staring at Sam, trying to take it all in. His little brother, all grown up. He was taller than Dean now, only a fraction of an inch, not enough that if someone saw them on the street they would be able to tell, but enough for Sam to make short jokes at his brother's expense all the time. He couldn't help but see Sam at three dressed in one of Dean's shirts that was way too big for him because he missed him while Dean was at school all day. He was still the little boy on a motel bed learning to add with his fingers while Dean did his math homework. Still the little boy that wanted Dean to read him bed time stories and pressed his cold feet into Dean's calf when they had to share a bed. He'd always be the little kid that made Dean hide under the covers with him during a thunderstorm because he was too scared. This _man_ in the horrible polyester robe wasn't his little brother, he couldn't be.

"Let's get going," Dean said, pressing a hand into Sam's shoulder and turning him out the door. "Don't want you to be late for the big day."

Dean made John take a couple pictures of the two of them together in front of the car before the drove over the high school. Sam went inside to get ready to line up while Dean and John found their way onto the soccer field.

"Sam said he was up front, right?" John sighed, fanning himself with the program.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He's in the front row with the honor society kids."

"Good," John replied. "So we'll get out early."

"I don't think that's how it works," Dean said softly, flipping through his program. "I think they gotta stay on the stage until everyone graduates."

"There are five hundred kids in this thing," John let out a long sigh. "We're gonna be here forever."

"It's important to Sammy," Dean answered. "It's a big deal."

John rolled his eyes and slid down in the chair. Dean knew it wasn't because John didn't want to be there, that he wasn't happy to see Sam graduate high school, it was hot and uncomfortable in the open soccer field. Dean knew their Dad would regret not going if wasn't there. Dean read through the program, the list of graduates. He noticed that next to a majority of the names was the college or branch of military that they'd be moving on to after they got their diploma. Trying not to look panicked; Dean ran his finger down the list to the "W's." Walden, Wagner, Waters, Weatherby, Wesley, Winchester. Right there in black and white across from his brother's name in bold was Stanford University. Dean hoped that John wouldn't stop using the program as a fan and feel the need to read the thing. He could only imagine the shit storm that would erupt at the restaurant they were going to afterward to celebrate.

When the show got moving, it wasn't as bad as Dean figured it would be. The keynote speech was long and stupid, some author for the area that Dean had never heard of going on and on about how the high school experience is the foundation of the rest of their lives. Dean rolled his eyes so many times listening to her he was actually surprised that they didn't get stuck. But the other speeches were nice, cliché maybe, but nice: lifelong friendships and how hard it would be to move away. The girl giving the valedictorian speech was kind of hot, so it was more enjoyable than the rest of it.

The actual handing out of the diplomas took about a million years, especially since Sam was the ninth person to get his and they had to wait for the other 542 students to get theirs afterward, but Dean thought he got some excellent photos of Sam accepting his diploma, big smile on his face as he shook the principal's hand. Dean just hopped that they all turned out alright.

* * *

Then went to the Olive Garden, per Sam's request to eat something besides pizza or burgers for dinner; John went off to the restroom shortly after they were seated, so Dean pulled the program out of his pocket and pointed to Sam's name.

"What is this about?" Dean whispered. "Dad could have seen it."

"Yeah," Sam shrugged. "'Bout time he knew."

"Do you actually want to go?" Dean asked. "Cuz telling him through the program at your graduation is probably the worst way to do it."

"But Dad didn't even bother to look," Sam replied. "So it doesn't matter."

"It does matter, Sammy," Dean said as the waitress dropped off their drinks and bread sticks. "Cuz you know exactly how he's gonna react. He's gonna think you're betraying the family and freak. He's gonna kill you Sam."

Sam just shrugged and took a sip of soda and grabbing a bread stick. "I really don't care. He can yell at me all he wants, I'm going. It's not like he's actual _hit_ either of us. He threatens it a lot but he'd never really do it."

"He hit my head off the back of his truck when you took off in Arizona," Dean said seriously.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No he didn't. He doesn't scare me, Dean, I'm a big boy and I can handle myself."

John rejoined the table moments later none the wiser about the conversation between his sons. "Boys ready to order? I'm freakin' starving. No offence Sammy, but that was the longest three hours of my life."

"Shoulda known what you were in for," Sam said, voice muffled by bread stick. "You graduated high school back in the day."

"But I skipped graduation for boot camp," John replied. "Didn't have to cross the stage to get the piece of paper. Too much pomp and circumstance for me."

"Yeah, well," Sam said. "I wanted to."

"I know kiddo," John smiled. "Just wish your mom coulda been there. Probably would have rivaled Dean with all the picture takin'. She'd be _real_ proud of you Sammy, real proud."

Sam looked down at the table until the waitress came over to take their order.

When dinner arrived, John and Dean decided it would be a good time to start swapping embarrassing stories about new graduate, laughing and smiling like a normal family for the first time in… well… neither boy could really remember the last time they felt completely normal.

"Remember when Sam tried to ride Bobby's dog like a horse?" Dean laughed. "First time we ever were there I think. You had to be, like, two, three at the most. You just climbed right up on it and waited for the dog to gallop away. Thought Bobby was gonna skin ya. Frickin' hilarious. Miracle Bobby ever let us back in his house again."

"I remember bringin' Sam home," John said. There was this faraway look in their father's eyes as he spoke. "How excited you were, Dean, to get a little brother. And then how disappointed you were when he was a baby and not a little person like you. Wanted to take him outside and play when he was a few days old. Kept askin' when he was gonna get big so you could play cars together. Dean was so mad that you just kinda laid there and didn't do much. But then after… after… when we started movin' around, you weren't even a year old, but your brother as much as he didn't like you… thought you were just this annoying thing that cried all the time and didn't do much… he took care of you. He did everything I couldn't do. Five years old."

"I think we did a good job," Dean interrupted before things got uncomfortable. "Got ourselves an honor student worthy of those stupid bumper stickers."

"You put a bumper sticker on that car it will be the last thing you ever do," John said with the most serious look on his face Dean had ever seen.

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded. "I was just kidding."

"Good."

All in all, though, they had the same night that Dean believed every other student that graduated with Sammy was having. A nice simple family dinner, but he knew it wouldn't be too long before everything hit the fan. Dean just hoped he didn't get covered with all of Sam's shit like he usually did. He loved that kid, but he knew what was coming and as much as he wanted to, Dean knew he'd never be able to protect Sam from it all.

* * *

Sam and John danced around each other all summer. Sam did exactly what John said with little complaint, held the flair gun and fired on command on a Wendgio in Northern Michigan. He sat in the library doing research on Roman Gods until the library closed every night for a week until he they figured out what on earth was striking people dead in New Mexico, even though it was the most beautiful week weather wise Sam had ever seen. He and Dean went off to Seattle to take down a poltergeist in an abandoned house by themselves; all leading up to a warm early August night in New Jersey in a white two story they were squatting in while chasing a lead on what killed Mary.

"Sammy!" John's voice seemed to make the whole house vibrate when he was mad. "Get your ass down here."

Sam and Dean were one the floor of their room between their sleeping bags playing poker. Both jumped at the sound of their father's voice and flew down the narrow staircase to come face to face with a red faced John holding an envelope.

"Wanna explain this?" John shook the paper at Sam.

"It's an envelope," Sam answered shrugging. "We got mail? I don't know what you want."

"It's forwarded from Bobby," John said, that dangerous smile Dean had grown used to hiding from growing across his face. "Got your name on it, but I figured, 'What kinda mail could Sammy be getting?' So I opened it, and it's your room assignment for the upcoming semester."

"You opened my mail?" Sam whined, clearly not understanding the seriousness of what was happening.

"Sammy," Dean whispered. "Don't make this any worse, okay?"

"You knew about this?" John yelled, staring Dean in the eye. "You _knew_ and didn't tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business," Sam replied. "If you respected personal space and privacy and not gone through my mail, you wouldn't know about it."

"You were just gonna take off in the middle of the night again?" John asked, still thrusting the paper at Sam. "Just gonna disappear without a trace and never look back?"

"No," Sam sighed. "I was gonna wait to tell you until you couldn't tell me no. Because that's what this is. This is you telling me that I can't go to college. That I have to stay shackled to you like a fucking prisoner in a life I hate instead of going to school."

"You finished school," John said seriously.

"No, Dad," Sam shook his head. "I didn't. I just finished high school. I want to go to college, get a degree and do something besides _hunting_."

"You want to abandon your family," John accused.

"I want to improve my life," Sam countered.

"Stop," Dean interjected. "Can we sit down and talk like adults? Not just scream until everyone hates each other. Please?"

Dean knew all the horrible things that John could say when he was angry. He'd been on the receiving end of it too many times to count. He'd do anything to keep Sam, that little brother he was supposed to protect from life, from feeling the wrath of John.

"You wanna talk this out?" John asked.

"Nothing to talk out," Sam replied. "I'm leaving in two weeks. I'm going to school in California. I'll meet you guys at Bobby's for Christmas, ride with you during summer break, but I'm going to school."

"How you paying for this shit?" John demanded. "You can't scam yourself Stanford tuition, not matter how hard you push those puppy dog eyes."

"I gotta full ride," Sam said calmly, like the other half of the conversation wasn't being screamed. "You don't gotta pay a dime. You'll never get a bill. I worked hard and it paid off. Took what you taught me, us, and applied it to school and I got a full ride to one of the best schools in the country."

"You're full of it, Sam," John shook his head. "That's shit that only happens in movies. Don't happen in real life."

"Well it happened to me, Dad," Sam answered. "I did it, all on my own while you dragged me from school to school my whole life. I got the grades to get into that school. I got a full ride. I worked my ass off every day of my life, studying, working, doing everything I could so I could get outta here. So I can do something worthwhile. And that's the work ethic you instilled in me."

"I didn't teach you to turn your back and walk out on your family," John yelled. "I taught you there was nothing more important."

"I'm not walking out," Sam defended. "I'm going to college."

"How the hell are we supposed to protect you when you're on the other side of the God damned country?"

"I'm eighteen," Sam said. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you or Dean up my ass 24/7 making sure I get a fucking paper cut. I've been taking care of myself for a long time. You've had no problem leaving me in a motel for weeks at a time with no adult supervision. College is a whole hell of a lot safer than half the flea bag pay by the hours we've lived in over the years."

"Don't give me that kind of shit, Sammy," John said, taking a step forward. "I did the best I could by you boys. You don't know what it was like after your mom… after what happened to your mom. You don't know what I went through."

"No, Dad," Sam replied. "I don't know what it's like to lose someone like that, and I honestly hope I never do. But to keep this up for eighteen years? You're chasing a ghost, and you're not doing us any favors."

"I did my best," John repeated.

"No Dad," Sam shook his head. "I don't think you did. There's so much you could have done better. You could have gotten a house somewhere, you could have settled down, you could have left us at Bobby's or Pastor Jim's and went out on hunts instead of dragging up around the country all the time. There's so much you could have done better. You taught that lies were bad, that they ate away at you. Nothings worse than lies you tell yourself."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Sammy," John said invading Sam's personal space. "You don't gotta clue what I did for you boys, what I sacrificed to protect you both."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "But let me have a chance to learn from your mistakes and do better."

Dean could tell it was taking everything in his little brother to keep him from snapping. He could see the vein on his neck pulsing the same way their father's did when he was trying to keep his head with a witness or law enforcement that had no clue what they were really looking at.

"Please," Dean said weakly. "Please let's just not fight. Let's act like adults and be civil. Hear Sam out, Dad. Just listen to him."

"He's betraying us," John shook his head. "He's turning his back on his family and walking out on us."

"No," Sam replied. "I'm not. I'm gonna go to law school one day. I'm gonna be a lawyer and one day you or Dean is gonna need one. And I know neither of you got money for that kinda thing, so I'll be there, to protect you. I'll be there to help when you need it most. I don't want to do this, Dad. I don't want to kill things and get revenge. I know you're just trying to make the world better. I wanna do the same thing, just from a different angle."

"You went behind my back and did something stupid," John growled, nose centimeters from Sam's.

Dean watched as Sam finally snapped. Calm, cool, and collected went away in blink and his baby brother was pissed.

"I applied to college!" Sam yelled. "I didn't blow up half the world or join a cult or get in league with Satan._ I applied to college_. If I had gone off and joined the marines would you be happy? If I was just like you?"

"No," John said. "Cuz I taught you that nothing is more important than family."

"That why you never let Dean join the fire explorers?" Sam accused. "Is that why you always made some excuse about how there wasn't enough money to let Dean follow his dream but you can go out and get ammo, new guns? Fuck making your kids happy, gotta make sure this hunt goes well. Gotta make it to the next one before they make too many friends. God forbid they have dreams of their own that aren't the ones I told them to have! Some of my earliest memories are my big brother dressed like a fireman pushing the fucking toy truck around on the floor. And you won't let him better himself. And I'll be damned if I let you do the same to me. What's wrong with wanting to be a firefighter Dad? What's dishonorable about that?"

"Shut your mouth, Sammy," John demanded. "You have no idea how hard I worked for you boys. To make sure the two of you were okay. I did everything I could. So you shut your fucking mouth."

"Make me," Sam spat. "Show me how great a father you are."

Dean wanted to hard to push them apart, stand between them and make them stop. He'd do anything to fix it. Anything in the world, but he didn't he stood there frozen watching it all happen.

"You're asking to get hit, boy," John growled.

"You know," Sam shook his head. "You say that _all the time_ but you _never_ do anything about it. All bark and no bite big man. Let's put your money where my mouth is."

Dean saw his dad's hands at his sides balling into fist.

"Dad don't," Dean said loud enough to be heard but not yelling. "Back off for a sec, okay? Take a breath and let's talk it out, please. Don't do this to him. Don't… don't…"

Dean wanted to say "Don't take him away from me," but he knew it wasn't about him; this was about Sam wanting to do the right thing and his father's stubbornness.

Sam stepped back out of the crowded space. Both of them were seething, chests raising and falling quickly. Clearly neither of them was ready to let this one go.

"I'm leaving, Dad," Sam shook his head. "I'm leaving and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Yes I can," John nodded. "You're my son."

"You don't fucking _own _me," Sam yelled. "I'm a person, Dad, a living breathing organism with hopes and dreams and the ability to make them happen. You've basically turned Dean in a fucking robot solider that only does what you want, waits for you to say how high before he jumps. I'm not like that Dad. I'll never be like that. That envelope in your hand, that's my whole future; a future that if this was any other fucking family you'd be so proud. You'd be telling everyone you know about your son that did so well for himself. But you… you… you're barely a father. Dean's been more of a parent to me that you have, and Dean's four years older than me. You let a little kid become a father. And you broke him. And I'm not gonna let you do that to me. You don't get to win this round, Dad. I'm not changing my mind."

"Alright," John nodded throwing the envelope at Sam. "Alright, go. Leave Sammy. But you walk out that front door, don't you ever come back."

"Fine!" Sam yelled turning and flying back up the stairs.

Dean shot a look at his dad then followed Sam. He was in their room shoving things into his duffle bag crying.

"Sammy," Dean said softly.

"Don't," Sam whimpered. "Don't try to stop me."

Dean placed a hand on Sam's back rubbing in slow circles like he used too when Sam was scared as a kid. "I'm not gonna. I don't want you to leave, but I'm not gonna hold ya here. I know that'll only make it worse. Can't have you hating me too."

Sam turned around, wiping the tears from his face as he looked at his brother.

"I'm sorry," Sam whimpered as he buried his face into Dean's shirt. "I didn't want it to end up like this. I really didn't. I knew it would be bad, but I didn't think he'd kick me out. I swear."

"I know, kiddo," Dean said. He pushed Sam away from him and went to his own duffle, pulling out two boxes. "I got ya this."

Dean handed Sam a cell phone. Sam looked at him confused.

"I had Bobby help me," Dean nodded. "It's in my name, my real name. The bill gets mailed to Bobby and I'll take care of it. I couldn't… I didn't want you so far away with no way to let me know if something was wrong, you know. Dad doesn't know. Bobby said he wouldn't tell. It's all set up to make calls and stuff, you just gotta do the voice mail."

"Thanks," Sam nodded wiping his nose.

"I want you to call me the moment you get there," Dean instructed. "And you call me after your first test, and when you can't stand your roommate's gross socks on your side of the room. And when you meet that girl you can't stop thinking about, and when you have that teacher you're sure is really a fuckin' demon. You call me. I'm paying for that phone, you call me all the damn time understand?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I will."

"Good," Dean smiled. He handed Sam the other box, a shoe box. "Take this."

"Dean…" Sam shook his head when he opened it, all that money Dean had saved for over a year. "I can't take your money."

"You need it," Dean said placing a hand on Sam shoulder. "You need it a whole hell of a lot more that I do. You're gonna need to eat, buy a bus ticket to Cali. You'll need books and shit. You take it."

"I can't, Dean," Sam repeated. "You worked for this."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, placing a hand on Sam shoulder. "Good honest work. I can't think of a better way to spend it. What am I gonna buy? You're the only thing I really spend money on, if you're across the country I can't keep track of what size pants you need. 'Bout time you started doing that kind of stuff for yourself, right?"

"Thanks," Sam mumbled.

"He'll come around," Dean promised. "He'll realize what he did and we'll be visiting you in a month, tops. Dad can be a dick Sammy, but he's not that big of a dick."

"Okay," Sam nodded wiping his face again. "Okay. I gotta finish packing."

"Alright," Dean replied.

He helped Sam roll up his sleeping bag, sort through the books that would worth carrying the extra weight of a cross country trip. He followed Sam down stairs and watched as he walked out the door. His little brother, the one person in the world who knew him like no one else, the only person that ever would, he watched him walk away. All the while John sat on the couch drinking beer and listening to Met's game on battery powered radio.

"How long 'til he finds his way back here?" John asked after the door closed.

"Go fuck yourself," Dean mumbled.

"Excuse me," John said turning around to face Dean.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me," Dean replied.

"You wanna show some respect?" John asked.

"After what you just did to my kid brother, no sir."

Dean went back up the room, his room now, he figured. It felt so empty without Sam's stuff. A pile of books, a holey pair of jeans, and a busted up Walkman was all that was left of his kid brother. Dean had never felt more alone in his whole life.


	54. Chapter 54

Dean, as anyone could have predicted, didn't deal well with Sam being gone. He'd convinced his dad it was a good idea to stay in New Jersey for a while, just in case. John said he'd give it a week then they were packing up and heading to Missouri. If Sam wanted to find them he could go through Bobby. True to his word, though, Sam called from the bus station, and every other bus station along the three day trip. Let Dean know he'd be in a motel near campus for a week before he could move in. It wasn't even close to the same as watching over him, but knowing that Sam was safe, hearing his voice every other day or so was pretty good, better than he hoped for. Following John's truck down highways became draining, it was lonely with just the radio for company. No amount of taking to himself made up for the lack of warm body, the eye rolling and halfhearted sighs when Dean sang along with the radio, the Batman versus Superman arguments. Every now and then Dean would put it on a pop station for a few songs just to make it feel like Sam was there.

Once they left New Jersey John decided it was best to keep moving, figured it would be the best for Dean who he could see wasn't himself. They did job after job with very little time between. It had help the boy immensely when he was little, seeing the country from the back seat of the Impala had taken him from a mostly silent five year old to the smart aleck little kid and wise ass young man he'd become. John wanted to do what was best for his boys, both of them. He did the best he could, but deep down he knew it wasn't working.

Dean wasn't what one would really classify as a "partier" but before Sam left he was known to have a few drinks now and then at a bar, if only to bring a girl back with him. Now, John noticed Dean was drinking to get drunk, to forget, like John had on so many occasions. He didn't need that for his son, Dean was better than that.

"Dean," John shook his shoulder until Dean moaned on a sunny Tuesday in October. Dean thought they were in Ohio, but honestly he'd lost track about six states ago. "Come on kiddo, it's almost two in the afternoon."

Dean had come home pretty drunk early that morning, and continued drinking a six pack he'd put in the fridge before he left. It was easier for him to forget that he didn't have to sleep on the floor between the beds because Sam wasn't there to remind him that they were _way_ too old to share a bed. When Sam was there and he'd come home drunk, he'd just collapse into the mattress, passed out before Sam could start complaining.

"Go away," Dean mumbled into his pillow. "I have a headache."

"Really?" John laughed. "You have headache? Lucky you don't have alcohol poisoning you moron."

Dean rolled over onto his back and covered his eyes with his hand to block the sun from the open curtains.

"I don't feel good," he moaned. "Leave me alone."

"We got places to be Dean," John sighed. "You knew this before you went out last night. You knew we had people to interview."

"You can do it yourself," Dean mumbled. "Just let me sleep it off."

"You've been sleeping it off for a month now," John said sitting down on his own bed. "Time to move on."

"No," Dean moaned. "That's not how it works. You of all people know that's not how it works."

"You're 22 years old, Dean," John sighed. "Grow up. If Sam wanted to come back, he'd be back by now. He's happy leavin' us behind and doing whatever he's doing on the west coast. He doesn't give a shit about you, so suck it up and grow up, Dean."

"He does too," Dean slurred. "Cares a whole lot. Just let me sleep."

"I'm going to interview this couple," John sighed. "I'll be back in an hour. I expect you to be showered and dressed with something in your stomach that's not pure alcohol when I get back. Take in some calories kiddo. You're gonna kill yourself, and I'm not gonna sit by and watch it happen. You're too young to be an old drunk. I'm really getting sick of it. Smarten up."

"Whatever," Dean whined, rolling back onto his side after the door slammed. Maybe his dad could forget he had another son, but Dean was never going to let go of Sam.

* * *

John was pretty sure there was a ghost in the Administration building at the University. He just couldn't get a handle on local lore, there was too much going around to pin point the right story. Against his better judgment, John sent Dean out to the college bar to try to talk up the students see if he could find out anything about urban legends see if they could figure out who or what exactly it was. Maybe if he was forced to interact with other humans instead of just liquor bottles he'd realize his life wasn't over without his little brother.

Dean leaned against the bar, getting the lay of the land, figuring out what girls would be the easiest to chat up.

"Are you some kind of serial killer or something?" a pretty African American girl asked after ordering a beer as she stepped up to the bar. "You got that predatory stare."

"No," Dean fumbled. "Not a serial killer, just… I don't know… looking for someone to talk to? I guess." Spending most of a month on a bender wasn't the best way to keep his social skills sharp. This girl probably thought he was a special brand of idiot.

"Can't afford a therapist?" she joked.

"Something like that," Dean mumbled. This girl was gorgeous; he couldn't pull his eyes away no matter how much he knew he should.

"Do you… do you go to school here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," she nodded and smiled. "I'm a journalism major."

"Excellent," Dean smirked. "Do you know anything about the admissions building? Like, has anyone ever died there or anything?"

"What?" she laughed, bringing her newly delivered beer to her lips. "That question supposed to make me think you're _not_ a serial killer?"

"Yeah?" Dean shifted awkwardly. "I just… I'm looking into it… for a paper."

"And you can't just, look it up?" she grinned. "There's a whole buncha books in the library about the history of the school. Athens is one of the most haunted cities in Ohio."

"It's more of an urban legend paper," Dean tried to cover his ass. "I'm not from the area… you know… so I haven't heard the stories."

"What year are you?" she asked.

Dean did the math in his head quickly, if Sam was a freshman, Dean would be a… "I'm a senior."

"And you've never heard about the girl in green?"

"No," Dean shook his head. He leaned in interested. "I've never heard about it."

"You don't go here, then," she smiled. "They tell ya that story during orientation. Everyone on campus knows that story. Even transfers. It keeps people from wandering around where they shouldn't be especially at night."

"Can you just tell me anyway?" Dean pouted, trying out the puppy dog eye thing he'd seen Sam use on old ladies his whole life. "Please?"

She rolled her eyes playfully and turned to Dean, leaning in to whisper the tale. "Rumor has it, in the sixties right after they opened the building; there was this girl, daughter of the Dean or one of the teachers or something playing with her brothers. It's said that she was running in the halls, but they were new, right, so they were all fresh waxed. She tripped and fell and cut her knee on a nail by the staircase and started to cry. Her oldest brother called her a baby shoved her and she fell down the stairs, and died. And now that little girl walks the halls. Every now and again there's some weird accident in there that gets blamed on her, most of the time the people fall down the main stairs. A Couple of my friends have said they've felt a little hand on their back when they get close to that staircase. And when they stumbled, it's said that there's the unmistakable sound of child laughing."

"Interesting," Dean nodded. "Really creepy, actually."

"Friggin' creepy in there," she smirked. "Especially at night. There are cold spots and laughing echoes. It's so creepy." A shiver ran up her spine thinking about it.

"Well, thanks," Dean nodded. "That really helps me, with my paper."

"Sure," she nodded. "Glad I could be of assistance. I'm Cassie, by the way."

"Dean," he extended his hand and they shook.

"If you need to know any more local urban legends, I'll be over there." She pointed to a pool table in the corner. "Or if you… you know… just need a therapist."

Dean looked down at his beer bottle then up at the girl walking across the bar. The last month had been nothing but a drunken blur, he missed his brother, missed that partnership. This girl, though, with her little smirk and warm eyes, she could be what pulled him out of this. He placed his empty bottle on the table and followed her, hoping he'd made the right choice, but knowing he'd never regret this decision.

* * *

When he staggered into the motel room the next morning while his dad was reading the paper, he tried to act like there was nothing unusual happening. His heart felt light and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He'd never felt like this before, it was weird, but one of those really good weirds that he wanted to experience again.

"Guess you had a good night?" John said, not looking away from the paper.

"Very," Dean smirked. He walked over to his duffle bag and dug through for some clean clothes. "Also found out what we're dealing with. Ghost of a little girl, daughter or a Dean from the sixties; looked it up on the way over, her name is Eloise Turner and she's buried in the Simms Cemetery."

"I don't know who she is," John said folding up the paper and placing it on the table. "But I like her."

"What?" Dean asked confused. "She pushes people down stairs and laughs as they die."

"No, whoever you went home with last night," John clarified. "I like what she did to ya. Hopefully this shapes you up a bit."

Dean felt himself blush and ran his hand through his hair.

"We have plans… to go out tonight," Dean nodded. "Can we put off the salt and burn one night? Please?"

John nodded. "Yeah, one night. We're takin' care of business tomorrow night. I'll start looking for new jobs."

"Can we stay a little bit?" Dean mumbled. "Not like, forever, but maybe, I don't know, like two more weeks?"

"You like this girl?" John smiled.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. "I think I do."

"We've been moving pretty fast lately, huh," John nodded. "I guess we can take a little time off. Bad guys will still be there when we get there. Might do us both some good to just sit still."

"Thanks," Dean replied.

"Just remember that this ain't a job where you can get too attached," John warned. "We got a job to do, and we ain't sticking around too long. It's all good to have some fun, but don't get too attached."

Dean nodded and smirked. "I know, sir."

* * *

After a week, Dean knew he loved her. He'd "dated" girls before, high school things, flings that didn't much of anything. He couldn't really see their lives after a month, two at the most. But with Cassie, he could see them in twenty years. Maybe not with two and half kids and a white picket fence, but he could see her with him later. He wasn't even close to ready to go ring shopping or anything, but every time they kissed goodbye, he'd count the hours until he saw her again. Maybe it was stupid, chick flicky, but he was sure he was in love.

"You know," Dean smiled one night about three weeks into their relationship as they cuddled in her apartment watching a horror movie after he took her to dinner. "I think you saved me from myself."

"What," she laughed looked up at him.

"When you found me there, at that bar, looking like a serial killer," Dean said. "We… uh… we moved around a lot when I was kid, still do, really. And I got this little brother, great kid, real great kid, smart, funny, _so smart_. He's eighteen now and since he a little baby I've been in charge of him. I changed diapers and cut his food and all that shit helped with homework. And we went off to college just packed up and left. I didn't really know how to deal with it, but then you found me."

"Where's he go?" Cassie asked sweetly.

"Stanford," Dean answered. "Wants to be a lawyer."

"So you did a good job raising him," Cassie said.

"Yeah, I guess," Dean nodded. "I just miss him."

"My parents felt the same why when I went off to school," Cassie teased. "It's not like your never gonna see him again."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "We've just never been apart this long before. I really miss him. Like when he was really little, like three or four. I'd get home from school and he look up at me and go 'Dean, I really need a nap.' So I'd pick up and go over to the couch of wherever we were living at the time and he'd curl into my shoulder and fall asleep, just like that for hours. I mean, like, he hadn't done that in _years_ obviously, but I just miss him."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"I spent a good amount of last month too drunk to remember that Sam's gone," Dean answered. "I was in pretty rough shape, to be honest; just stewing in my own juices feeling sorry for myself. But you found me and I woke up, I changed. And I think I'm falling in love with you."

She kissed him hard on the lips. "I think I might be falling for you."

* * *

"You about ready to take off?" John asked the next morning when Dean stumbled in. "Got a job in Nebraska that looks promising. Could be there in a day if he get going now."

"But Cassie," Dean replied. "We can't just… she… I… I can't just take off on her. I love her, she's… she means a lot to me. I can't just take off. That's not… I can't do that."

"Is this the same 'love' you felt for the little girl in Idaho?" John sighed. "Cuz you said you loved her too. Or the girl up at Bobby's that's twice your age, or the drug addict in Massachusetts."

"No," Dean shook his head. "First of all, Olivia was not a drug addict. She was seventeen and smoked pot some times. But no that was just kid stuff. Janie was the first person to put her mouth on my dick. I was fifteen. Didn't you think you loved the first person to do that to you?"

"I _married_ the first person do to that to me," John said matter of factual.

"Gross," Dean whined. "Dad, seriously? I did not need to know that. No one ever needed to know that."

"You asked," John chuckled.

"_Rhetorically_," Dean replied. "You don't just offer that kind of information to your kid. I don't wanna think about parent sex."

"I have two kids, Dean," John seriously.

"Yeah but, still, gross. I'm never gonna get that fucking imagine out of my head," Dean shivered. "But no, seriously, I love her. I love Cassie."

"I warned you," John shook his head. "I told you not to get too close to her. I'm sorry, Dean, you know the job comes first before the girls. You gotta have your head in the game."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "But can't just this once _I_ come first?"

"Dean," John sighed. "You always come first. But the job is before girls, before extracurricular activities. You've known that for a long time."

"Then why can't we just stay?" Dean felt like a little kid whining about some toy he wanted at the store. "This is something I want. I don't want to stay forever. I just… I love her. Not some kid I like you shit, I _love _her. "

"You wanna find what killed your mom?" John said.

"Of course I do," Dean answered. "What kind of question is that?"

"Then we're leaving town," John replied. "We're never gonna get if we sit on our thumbs while you play house with some chick you barely know."

"Can we wait a day? I can't… I can't…" Dean stuttered. "I can't just take off and not say something to her. You gotta understand that."

"I do," John answered. "You got two days. Okay?"

Dean nodded. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted to put her in the car and take her along with them. She's look amazing with gun holstered to her side. But at the same time he wanted to protect her, make sure she got her journalism degree, got a job a that paper back home she was always talking about. He wanted both worlds. He'd never met a hunter who had both, but he knew he could be the first one. He could if Cassie was the one waiting for him to come home.

* * *

They lay in bed together the next night, Dean was searching him mind of the way to tell Cassie was going on. That he wanted to keep her but he couldn't stay in town.

"My dad wants to leave town," he said into her hair. "Thinks it's about time to get moving."

"Okay?" she answered. "So you're leaving."

"I don't want to," Dean answered. "I love you. But I can't just abandon my family."

"Okay?" Cassie rolled over to her side and stared at him. "Are you asking to move in together, because we've been dating for a month, and yeah nothing about this has really been slow or anything, but that's not gonna happen."

"Look," Dean looked her dead in the eye. "I'm gonna tell you something. And it's gonna seem really ridiculous, but just listen."

"Alright…"

"When I was four my mom died," Dean said seriously, never looking away from her. "In the middle of the night there was a fire in my brother's nursery. My dad went in to grab Sammy and my mom was on the ceiling."

"What?" Cassie pushed away, sitting up and pulling the sheets up to cover herself.

"Wait, Cassie, just, listen," Dean pressed. "Please."

Cassie nodded.

"When I was five," Dean continued. "Dad packed us up and started chasing the thing that did that to her. When I was old enough, I started helping. We hunt ghosts. That's why we're here, to get rid of the spirit in the admin building."

"You're fucking nuts," Cassie yelled getting out of bed. "If you wanted to break up with me you could have thought of a way less creepy way to do it."

"No, listen," Dean said pushing himself up to the sitting position. "I don't want to break up with you. That's why I'm telling you this. I have to leave, my dad has a case in Nebraska, but I'll be back, as soon as I can. I love you. I don't end this."

"Get out of my apartment," Cassie demanded.

"Cas," Dean pleaded.

She walked to the other side of the bed and threw Dean's clothes at him.

"I'm serious," she said. "I'm going to take a shower. You'd better be gone when I get back."

"Cassie."

"No," she shook her head as she waved her hand between the two of them. "This, whatever this is… I'm not dating a crazy person. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but no. This is over. Dean."

She turned and stormed toward the bathroom, pulling the comforter behind her.

"Cassie," Dean banged his head against the wall. When he heard the shower turn on, he got dressed. On her bed side table he left her a note, his number in case she wanted to talk. Letting her knew that he loved her and they could fix it if she wanted. That wasn't what he wanted to happen. He'd be back if she wanted him back.

When he took his leather jacket off the back of the kitchen chair on the way out, he knew he'd never be back here. He'd broken the one rule. The most important rule of all, do what they do and don't tell anybody. It blew up right in his face. Dad was right. He couldn't have real relationships. He couldn't get close to another person, because he could never be himself with them. What he did was what he was, he couldn't change that. He'd never be able to change it.


	55. Chapter 55

For Christmas they went to Bobby's. Dean hoped that Sam would be there, but in a phone call the week before, Sam told him that he'd been invited to spend the holiday with his roommate's family in San Diego. He understood, kind of, Sam was still pretty upset that their dad hadn't bothered to talk to him, hadn't bothered to visit. It made sense, Dean figured, to try to prevent another fight by staying gone. It would have been nice to see the kid though. He knew it was all about their dad, he knew that if Sam didn't believe what John told him, that he wasn't allowed back, if his dad would suck it up and say sorry, Sam would be sitting next to him at Christmas dinner. The more he thought about it, the angry he got at his father, but at the same time he knew that anger wasn't going to get his brother back. So he started to let the anger roll of in a false façade of cockiness. He'd make everyone around him think he was fine, even if he was broken inside.

Dean hadn't really spoken to Bobby since before Sam left for school. He doubted that his dad had mentioned the fight to him, so Dean was expecting a colorful holiday. But at least he'd be with most of his family. He'd call Sam Christmas afternoon and have a nice long talk with him, since his brother didn't have finals of papers to write they'd have time to just talk like they used to. That was the part the Dean missed the most, just having someone to talk to, someone that understood. He'd tried to talk to his dad like he did to Sam, but John wasn't as receptive to Dean's whining about trivial things. He couldn't talk to Dad about Batman comics or the weird book about wizards that Sam had left behind that Dean could stand to leave in that empty house in New Jersey. The generational gap was huge between him and his dad. As much as Dean wanted to be just like him, hunt like him, be strong like him, there would always be that huge part of him that needed someone riding shotgun to make fun of.

* * *

Bobby wasn't too happy about John's attitude toward his younger son. Christmas dinner was an interesting affair of angry glares. John wasn't speaking to Bobby, so Bobby wasn't talking to John, which left Dean in the uncomfortable middle of two of the people he cared the most about. Maybe it wasn't so different than every other Christmas after all.

"This is a really good roast, Bobby," Dean said. He made sure to swallow before commenting, something he usually forgot, just to try to make thing less awkward. "Whatever you do to this meat, magic I'm tellin' ya."

"Something my momma taught me," Bobby answered. "I'll show ya if you want before ya take off."

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "I'd love that."

"When are we gonna eat a roast, Dean?" John sighed.

"When Sam comes back," Dean replied. "You know how much Sam hates greasy diner food. I can put together a nice little family dinner. You both usually like what I can come up with. It'll be nice, when Sam gets back. He'll like a nice home cooked meal. We don't really get them that often, you know, with the job and stuff. He gets kinda annoyed of not eating 'real food' or whatever."

"Must be doing real great eating at a school cafeteria," John said dropping his fork with a clang. "Hopefully it's up to his high standards. Lord knows nothing I did was ever good enough."

"John," Bobby said in a warning tone.

There were times in Dean's life that he believed that Bobby was the only one that could really control his dad's tempter; the only one that John couldn't control and threaten. Dean wasn't sure if it was because Bobby was older, or because John respected him, but Dean appreciated it immensely.

That night Dean lay on the bed in the room he used to share with Sam after hanging up the phone; John still didn't know about the phone, so Dean figured it best to keep it out of earshot. He opened the book he'd picked up off the floor of the abandoned house in New Jersey, which at one point had belonged to the Little Rock Public Library and started to read. He was less than a paragraph in when the yelling started.

To Dean, when his dad and Bobby had yelling matches, it felt like his parents fighting. He didn't remember much about before the fire, but he knew it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows like John made it out to be, he remembered a few fights, a little bit of yelling, but nothing like this. But he figured that in some households it was loud like this.

"Do you not see what you're doing to those boys?" Bobby's voice echoed up the stairs. "No just Sammy, but do you not see how broken Dean is?"

"He's fine," John replied. "He just misses his brother, he'll get over it."

"Get over it," Bobby laughed. "The only friend Dean's had his whole life is Sam. He might have put on a happy face and tried to convince you that he was a well-adjusted kid, but damn it John, that poor kid's walking about in a fog."

"He's fine," John argued. "He's been good at the job, had my back out there. He's sharp."

"Have you talked to him?" Bobby asked. "Sam? Have you even bothered to reach out?"

"Sam knows he's welcome here," John answered. "He knows we'd be here. He knew he could come here if he wanted to apologize."

"Apologize for what?" Bobby yelled. "For being a smart kid that went to college?"

"For walkin' out," John clarified.

"You know what, John," Bobby said. "I've watched out for those boys since they were little. Treated 'em like they were my own, but if you can't see what you're doing, how much you're hurting those boys, I don't want you in my house."

"You kicking me out Bob?" John said seriously.

"I think I am," Bobby replied. "Get out of my house."

Dean gathered his things quickly. He knew that he'd have to pick sides, knew that he'd always pick his dad's. Family was the most important thing, if this year had taught him anything, it was that family was the most important thing there was.

"Dean!" John called up the stairs. "Let's get movin',"

"Yes, sir," Dean called back. He shouldered his duffle bag and headed down the stairs.

There was a moment, about halfway down the stairs when he realized he was almost twenty-three years old and still taking orders from his father. There was a moment when he wanted to jump in the Impala and drive to California and get that apartment that Sam was taking about. But he knew he couldn't, he couldn't walk away. His dad needed him; his mom's memory needed him to find whatever it was that killed her. This was his life, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He looked up to Bobby as he walked by, nodded a little bit before looking at the floor and following his dad out the door. It didn't seem like even close to enough, not for this man who always knew what was best for him and his little brother, but that was all time allowed.

* * *

John and Dean split up after shortly after leaving Bobby's. Dean wanted to ride down the west coast, not so subtly hinting that he wanted to visit his brother, whereas John found a series of mysterious deaths down the Appalachian Trail that looked like their kind of thing. The decided to split the difference and meet in Independence, Missouri on March 15th re-group and move forward. It just felt right to get a little bit of a break from each other, after what happened at Bobby's they both needed time to just be alone and clear their heads.

* * *

The Stanford library was huge and freakishly quiet. Dean had been in a lot of libraries almost all of them had some kind of noise: kids yelling in the kid section, people talking about the news in the periodicals, something. Here though, absolute silence. There were a lot of people in there for a Friday, he expected it from his brother, this was the first place he thought to look for him, but all these other little nerds. Sammy had definitely picked the right place for him.

Sam was sitting with his head bent over a book at a large square table in the middle of the study room. He snuck up behind the boy and placed his hand next to Sam's leaning in really close and whispering into his ear.

"You look so sexy when you get all bookworm like that."

Sam jumped and turned, clearly he hadn't been expecting to see his big brother standing there, sly smile across his face.

"Dean," Sam breathed. His chair fell backward as he stood "What are you doing here?"

Dean let the duffle bag he was carrying and pulled his brother tight against his chest, hoping he'd never have to let go.

"Let me look at ya," Dean said when he felt Sam start to loosen his grip. He grabbed Sam shoulders and took him in. "You're taller. And you don't eat enough. You're too skinny, it's gross."

Sam chuckled. "I eat just fine, mom, thanks."

"Go for a walk?" Dean suggested. He surveyed the room; most of the people were staring at them.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. He gathered up he books and lead Dean out. They started to walk across campus and as they talked.

"So, what are you doin' here?" Sam asked. "Got a job nearby?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "After Christmas Dad and I decided to split up for a bit, so I came over here, he went east. I haven't really found anything yet, might be something in Santa Fe but… you know… you're more important."

"So, Dad's not with you?" Sam sounded so disappointed it hurt.

"You know how he is, Sammy," Dean shrugged as Sam let him into his dorm hall. "Hard headed and all that. I don't think he'd throw the phone if you dropped a line, but you know he's not gonna dial the numbers."

"I guess," Sam shrugged. "It's just all so stupid, you know. He's the adult, really. He should be the one to take the first step."

Dean remained silent as they climbed four sets of stairs. He didn't want to pick a fight; he just wanted to make sure Sam was okay, adjusting. This visit wasn't about their dad.

"I got you something," Dean said unzipping the duffle he had over his shoulder.

"You didn't have to do that," Sam shook his head as he opened the door to his room.

"You'll like it," Dean nodded. "It's something you don't got."

"Dean," Sam sighed as he turned around. Dean thrust two picture frames at him.

"The pictures from your graduation came out real good," Dean nodded. "I figured you might want one. Me and you, you know, and one of Mom and Dad. I know you and Dad aren't on the best terms but we don't got one of just Mom, and I couldn't find one of just you and her, but I figured that you might like them. Pretend you got some kind of normal home life."

Sam stared at the two frames Dean presented him with weighed them in his hands.

"Thanks," he nodded, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

"Merry Christmas kiddo," Dean punched Sam in the shoulder pretty hard. "Let's not make this a chick flick moment."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. He set the frames up on his bookshelf.

When his brother turned his back, Dean took him the room. Two very different personalities lived here. Sam's side was neat, clean, like he was used to living in tiny places his whole life. His roommate's half was messy, clothes everywhere, posters on the walls of band Dean could tell he'd never even consider liking in a million years.

"You doing alright here, Sammy," Dean asked. "This guy treatin' you alright?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We get along really well, actually. He used to make fun of me a little because I don't have a lot stuff, but I just told him not everyone grows up with a silver spoon, and we've gotten along well ever sense. I went up to his parents for Christmas; I think I told you that."

"I remember," Dean answered. "Missed you at Bobby's, but I get it."

"How long are you staying?" Sam asked. "Not to, like, kick you out or nothing, we have policy in the building."

"I was hoping to crash on your floor or a night," Dean replied. "If that's cool, maybe the weekend? I mean if you don't want me here."

"Dean," Sam laughed. "I can't really believe you're here, but I don't want you to leave. You gotta sleeping bag or something in your car? Let me just call my roommate and tell him that I got someone staying with us."

"Yeah, I do," Dean nodded. Sam handed Dean the key to the room and he set off to get the rest of his stuff from the car.

* * *

Sam convinced Dean to go to a little part his friends were having.

"I know it's not really your speed or anything," Sam shrugged. We're just gonna hang out and talk and stuff. Might be some beer, but I'm not sure. No one's getting, like trashed or anything though."

"There'll be girls there right?" Dean smirked. Sam rolled his eyes. "Any place with girls is my kinda thing."

"Just don't embarrass me in front of my friends, please?" Sam sighed. "I live here."

"I know Sammy. I can behave myself," Dean nodded. "You want me to pick up a sixer? We can split it, or share with your friends or what you want."

"Just don't drink the whole thing," Sam said. "We're really not party kids. I mean it, okay?"

"I have self-control Sammy," Dean replied. "I wouldn't embarrass you like that."

"Alright," Sam nodded. "Yeah okay, we can stop at the mini mart on the way to party. But please don't call me 'Sammy.' I know you don't mean it to sound condescending, but really it feels like it."

"As you wish," Dean smirked. "I won't. You are Sam tonight. I promise. I'm not going to embarrass you. I am capable of control myself."

They ended up in a friend's off campus apartment. Dean stood against the wall, surveying. He'd been around groups of Sam's weird nerd friends enough to know that most of their conversations would go way over his head, and he didn't want to embarrass his brother by showing off his basic knowledge of nothing. There were a couple of very pretty girls hanging around, but Dean wasn't going to turn on his normal charm. He knew girls like that were only interested in girls like him when they were looking to slum it. It wasn't like he could take one of Sam's friends back to Sam's room and hook up in a sleeping bag on the floor either. So he just stood against the wall, one hand in his pocket, one wrapped around a beer and observed. Dean felt very out of place here. This was Sam's world, one that he could never fit in. He wasn't the intellectual like his little brother was, he never could be.

He watched Sam laugh and tell jokes, he looked happy. Dean hadn't seen Sam look that happy since before he found out monsters were real. He'd been too busy making sure that everyone was okay, worrying that something bad was going to happen. Here, Dean observed, Sam was the carefree kid he always wanted his little brother to be. Maybe Sam didn't need Dean anymore. He'd found his happiness, and if the little apartment they were in was any induction, Dean wasn't a part of that.

The whole time Dean stood along the edges of the crowd no one spoke to him. Sam introduced him to almost everyone, they said hi, but they looked at him with this expression that made Dean feel like he wasn't good enough to be there. He wanted to be a part of this, he wanted it so badly. He didn't want his brother to be alone with these people that just came across as snobby, rich kids to him. He wanted his brother to have someone in his corner, someone who understood how they grew up. But Sammy seemed to fit right in.

Dean slipped out while Sam and is friends were having a conversation he didn't understand about social classes in the college life. Sam seemed really involved. He kept trying to insert that he'd grown up with basically nothing and was still on same playing field as everyone else in the world. Dean wanted to express his opinion, but when one of the kids said that people usually become what their parents are, he stepped away. He was probably the worst example for this conversation topic. Dean wasn't unintelligent he could hold a conversation with college educated person just fine. He and Cassie got along well, had deep conversations about pretty much anything. But there was something about these people, the people Sam had chosen to befriend, that made Dean feel very inadequate and just stupid.

Dean set off across campus, picked the lock to Sam's dorm room and grabbed his things. He was in the Impala and almost a hundred miles away before Sammy called him. Dean was an afterthought now. He brother didn't need him anymore. His dad was right. Dean needed Sam so much more than Sam needed Dean.

* * *

_AN: Okay, so I think it's canon that Dean never actually talked to Sam while he was at school. But there was a line that said Dean hadn't talked to Sam in 2 years when he showed up at Stanford in the pilot. So I took the liberty to have Dean experiences Sam's new life first hand. I just felt that Dean wouldn't just cut off all contact with Sam because John said so. As much as Dean's a "Yes, Sir, No, Sir" type of solider when it goes to their dad, Sam means too much to Dean to just let him go without making sure he was okay._


	56. Chapter 56

_AN 1: In this chapter I took a real ghost story from Vermont's history and made it fit into a Supernatural story/ episode I guess. I changed the name of the ghost because I knew I would be changing his story slightly, but the circumstances of his death and the main points of the story are the same. So if it sounds familiar to you, that is why._

* * *

Dean let his phone go to voice mail every time it said his brother's name for almost three months. On the initial sixteen hour drive from Sam's dorm to Santa Fe, Sam called almost twenty times. He demanded to know what Dean's problem was at first, then slowly the voice mails became more desperate, just wanting his big brother to let him know he was okay.

"I don't know what did, Dean," Sam's very tired voice said in the last voice mail that night. "I don't know if one my friends said something to piss you off and you left before you punched someone or what's going on in your head, but call me back, okay. I'll fix it. Whatever I did I'll fix it."

"You can't," Dean replied to the empty car. "You can't stop growin' up kiddo. I can't ask you to do that."

When he finally did call back, leaving a happy birthday message, Dean knew it was the last time he'd be calling his little brother. Sam was probably too pissed at him to answer, let alone call him back. Dean knew he was the one that fucked it all up, but he knew Sam would be fine. He had his friends, those people who knew a side of him Dean never would, the happy side, and that was almost enough to make Dean feel better about it.

* * *

He spent a long summer with his dad driving around a haze of blood and monster guts; bars and girls that he was too drunk to remember their names. He was numb again, but he like it that way. He wasn't in the haze that he was when Sam first left, but he teetering on the verge of losing control.

In October Dean and John sat at a table in a motel in Bloomington Indiana they'd just finished going over plans to take down a changeling operating near an elementary school. They were playing five card draw for pieces of popcorn and peanuts while they slowly drank warm beer, when John's phone started to ring. He looked at the number skeptically before standing and flipping the phone open.

"Who is this?" John demanded.

Dean shuffled and dealt the cards out, snacking on some of his winnings as he waited for his dad to come back to the table.

"Kate?" John said pacing. "Kate who? I don't know a Kate. Who gave you this number?"

He did his best not to listen, just sat back and took a slow drink of his beer.

"Oh," John said into the receiver. He eyed Dean warily and paced faster on the far side of the room as if he didn't want Dean to hear. "Why didn't you… you could have… is it okay if I… As soon as I can… of course I do… as soon as I can… You could have called me earlier… I mean it's kind of a big thing… no, I'd love to… I'll be there… yeah, I know… I'll be there, Kate… See you soon."

He flipped his phone shut and placed his hands on the back of the chair he was previously sitting in. He let out a long deep sigh.

"What was that?" Dean asked curiously.

"I gotta go to Minnesota," John replied. "I think wanna take the car. You'll be good with my truck for a week or so?"

"What about the changeling?" Dean questioned. "Takin' that bitch down in the morning right?"

"I have faith in ya," John nodded. "This thing up in Minnesota is... important, can't wait."

"Need back up?" Dean pressed. "We'll have this wrapped up by noon, take off from there."

"No," John said dismissively. "One man thing, ghouls, I can... I can take care of it. Not a big thing. We'll meet up in a week."

"Where?" Dean asked, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

"I'll call ya," John nodded. He pushed off the chair and started to gather his things. "Or you call me when you finish up the changeling. You might be able to squeeze another job in between this and when I get my stuff done up there."

"Alright?" Dean leaned back in his chair confused.

"You got the keys to the Chevy?" John asked patting down his old leather jacket, which had become Dean's a few years earlier.

"Yeah," Dean fished them out of his front pocket and tossed them on the table. "What's going on, Dad? I've never seen you rattled by a phone call."

"Nothing," John shook his head. "Just something I gotta take care of. I'll see you in a couple weeks. Take care of that think in the morning. I don't want it getting any more kids."

"We're partners now," Dean interjected as John picked up his bag to leave. "We're supposed to be in this fifty/fifty, no secrets. That's your rule."

"Still your father," John said in that tone that made Dean feel like he was twelve again. "So when I say 'don't worry about it, it's my problem' don't worry about it, I'll take care of it myself. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean nodded as John rushed out the door.

Confused and slightly worried about the mysterious phone call and his father's reaction, Dean started to clean up the now abandoned game. His dad wasn't the kind of guy that just took off in the middle of a hunt, definitely not one where kids where were in trouble. Dean went over the plans again, making sure he had a flare gun ready for his early morning raid on the abandon warehouse down the road where John and Dean were certain the changeling mother was had set up camp.

* * *

Dean cleaned up the changeling den pretty quickly the next morning, brought the kids he could back to their parents. He decided it was in his best interest to start focusing on that part, the saving people. If he thought about all the people he'd saved from horrible fates instead of how flaky his dad was being or that his little brother was never going to speak to him again or that Bobby had made it perfectly clear that he never wanted to see a Winchester on his property ever again, he'd be okay.

He hated driving his dad's truck. It was a nice vehicle, but it wasn't his Baby, it handled too smoothly, nothing rattled when he turned on the heat, it was almost too good. The Impala was imperfectly perfect; the only permanent fixture in his life and it didn't feel right to not be behind the wheel. He could not wait until he got his car back.

John finally checked in as Dean drove west through Wisconsin.

"I want to you to head to Vermont," John's gruff voice said before saying hello. "There's something fishy in Hartford, I want you to check it out."

"Are you meeting me?" Dean replied.

"Maybe," John answered. "If I finish up here. Find out what's going on in Hartford, then call me. I'll let you know how it's going out here."

"Okay," Dean sighed. "Is everything alright? You said it was an easy job."

"Yeah," John answered like he was trying to rush Dean off the phone. "It's almost wrapped up. Call me when you get to Vermont. Get that case squared away. We'll figure it out from there."

"Alright," Dean answered and the line went dead. "Nice to talk to you too, Dad."

He turned the car around at the next exit and headed East, making it to New England about twenty hours later. He went straight to the library and started working. If his dad called he wanted to have a good jump on this thing, he was going to pour everything he could into it, give his dad a reason to want to work as a team again.

In Hartford there was a stretch of road that was known to have a lot of weird car accidents right after the bridge that crossed the White river. Dean sat in the public library waiting for his dad to call as he scrolled through old newspaper articles about deaths on that stretch of road. There were a fifty eight since 1910 when the bridge was converted into a roadway after train crash in 1870's. Since the first death was less than a week after the new bridge opened. Dean figured the two things were related. There were a few survivors of car wrecks over the years, all saying the same thing caused the driver to swerve, a young boy, between 10 and 12 standing in the middle of the road.

He decided to call it a night; he'd scout out some college kids at a bar or a bookstore the next day and try to find out about this boy. He found his way to the nearest motel, dad's truck didn't cut it as a place to sleep, and flopped down onto the bed. He checked his phone one more time for missed calls before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next morning Dean headed out the bridge. Nothing looked weird, he held onto the side of the bridge and leaned around to look down at the water, but nothing seemed out of place. There were still railroad tracks running down the left side of the road, overgrown with over a hundred years of weeds and grass but still visible from where he stood. There as a little plaque on the bridge commentating the big train wreck, saying that it happened because the bridge was wooden and hadn't taken into account the new train technology of the time and caught on fire. Most of the passengers had died, burned alive or drowned in the river.

Dean walked back to town, hoping to find a nice little place to eat breakfast, when is phone rang, finally.

"It's Dad," the voice on the other end of the line said. "What you find out?"

"Honestly," Dean sighed. "It doesn't look like a vindictive thing. There was a train wreck on the site of the crashes, so it could just be people seeing someone standing in the road, swerving around it and hitting a tree."

"Still gotta let that poor soul rest," John replied. "Find out who it is?"

"Working on it," Dean answered. "I gotta find some locals see if they know the story. Could get a real handle on it in the library. Are you heading this way?"

"Yeah," John said. "I'm on my way. It all looks good here for now. Might have to go back later but I think it's good now."

"What's out there?" Dean asked curiously.

"Nothing that concerns you," John replied harshly. "I'll be there in about twelve hours."

The phone went dead before Dean could answer or say good bye.

* * *

"You look lonely," the waffle house waitress, Wendy, observed as Dean stared at his coffee. He looked up at her. She was older, probably his father's age, pretty in that way that all mothers are pretty, with dark hair and soft brown eyes. She smiled sweetly at him. "You need someone to talk to, sweetie?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugged, pressing sweaty palms against his thighs. "Maybe. You're probably too busy to listen, though, just being nice."

"Sweetheart," the waitress smiled down at him. "Look around this place. Its 9:30 on a Tuesday morning and you are my only table. I got all the time in the world. Let me grab your food and if you need an ear, I'll listen to you, alright?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I… I uh… I think I'd like that."

"Alright Sweetheart, I'll be right back."

Dean stirred some sugar into his coffee as he waited for the waitress to come back. She placed his breakfast down and took a seat in the empty booth seat across from him.

"Talk," she smiled.

Dean smirked; he cut up his pancakes as he talked.

"I work with my dad," he started. "Pest control, we travel quite a bit, and umm… the other day, like a week ago, he got this phone call and just took off, like pretty much in the middle of the night. Wouldn't tell me what was going on. We've been pretty equal partners for a while now, and I just I don't get it. He's being real weird about the whole thing. Every time I ask him what's going on, he shuts me down. He keeps hanging up on me an stuff."

"He still treats you like a little kid," Wendy the waitress smiled.

"Yeah I guess," Dean replied pouring syrup over his meal. "I mean, like, my little brother, he used to be with us, but he went to college and doesn't want nothing to do with us anymore. So it's just me and my dad and I don't know. He talks about being equal partners in this business. It's our family business and I know he wants me to take over one day when he can't do it anymore, but he doesn't treat me like I matter."

"I'm gonna tell you how I work with my daughter," Wendy smiled. "She's a little bit older than you I think. Got herself a husband and gave me a little grandbaby. It don't matter how old you are, you're still a little baby to your parents. Your father doesn't see a man yet when he looks at you, just his little boy. You'll understand it a little more when you got yourself your own babies."

"But we're supposed to be partners," Dean explained. He crunched on a piece of bacon.

"Maybe you just gotta sit your father down and explain how you feel?" Wendy asked. "Maybe your dad doesn't want to worry you about what's going on. Just cuz he's your dad doesn't mean he stopped being a person. Maybe it's just a personal thing that he doesn't want to bother you with."

Dean chuckled, "Yeah, I've been trying talk to him that since he left but he keeps hanging up on me. If it was just a personal thing he'd say that. He wouldn't just shut me off. We have a better relationship than that, I think."

"Wait til you see him," Wendy suggested. "Might have to corner him. I'm sure your dad isn't doing it on purpose. He's just treating his little boy like a little boy because it's easier than accepting you've grown up."

The bell over the door jingled and Dean watched a group of college kids walk in.

"I gotta go, sweetheart," Wendy smiled, touching his hand. "Don't let your dad bring you down. I'm sure that you're good at your job. You look responsible, like a good kid. You can convince him if you try."

"Thank you ma'am," Dean nodded. "I appreciate it."

* * *

Dean went back to the library, chatted up a couple college age girls about local legends.

"Oh! You mean Tommy!?" one of the girls, Krista, he thinks, exclaimed, which caused the harsh looking librarian to glare in there direction, when Dean mentioned the stretch of road by the White River.

"Sure," Dean nodded. "Tommy."

"Oh, there's this old ghost story," Krista whispered and nodded excited. "He's this little boy, like ten, who was in the big train crash in the 1870's. I've heard it told a couple of ways, but the most popular is that he was thrown into the water and shoulda drown, but he didn't I guess. When he got to shore he started looking for his dad, but his dad died in the crash. And eventual Tommy died of his injuries or something, but he still goes to the bridge to look for his dad."

"Interesting," Dean smiled. "Any idea where he might be buried?"

"Umm," Krista's brunette companion thought aloud. "Probably the cemetery on the other side of the river. A lot of the bodies were buried there. Thomas Something really Irish."

"Thanks ladies," Dean smiled as he stood up. "That was very helpful."

"Are you gonna go look for Tommy?" Krista asked. "One time my sophomore year of high school, we all went down the road for a softball team bonding session, and we saw him. I swear."

"No," Dean shook his head. "Just writing a paper."

"Oh," Krista looked really disappointed.

"But… um…" Dean smirked. "If you want to tell me all about your experience, we can meet up later."

"Yeah," Krista smiled. "I'd love that." She scribbled her number onto his hand before he walked away.

* * *

Dean spent a decent part of the afternoon looking for "Tommy Something Irish" age 10 in the cemetery on the other side of the river. It took almost an hour and half to find the section of the grave yard that held the hundred year old graves of the victims. The stones were hard to read but after quite a bit of rubbing and eye rolling, Dean found the graves of Thomas Cavanaugh and his 10 year old son, Thomas Jr.

"That'll be them," Dean smiled. He places a white flag at the foot of the grave so he could find it later, and headed back to the motel, to wash up so he could have this little date Krista the college girl.

* * *

The Impala was parked in front of Dean's room when he got back to the motel, a slightly tipsy Krista giggling behind him. He'd told him dad that he'd gotten a single room, so Dean hoped that his dad got the message and got his own room. But of course as Dean stepped backward through the threshold, holding Krista around the waist. John was sitting at the desk going over paperwork.

"Bout ready to take it down?" John said.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered into Krista's ear. "Give me like, two minutes."

"Thought we had a job to do?" John said glaring at Dean.

"We do," Dean replied. He looked at Krista an apologetic look. "Why don't you have your own room?"

"Who's this?" Krista giggled.

"Business partner," Dean answered. "I swear I didn't know he'd be here."

"I told you I was coming back," John grumbled.

"Didn't think you'd be back so soon," Dean said glaring at his father.

"Whoa," Krista said taking a step back. "Is this… are you guys like… No…I didn't sign up for this."

"Oh, no," Dean shook his head, panicking. "That's not… He's leaving. Nothing weird is going on I swear. He wasn't supposed to be here I wasn't trying anything. I swear."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Krista shook her head walking backward toward the door. "I'm sorry. But, like, you should have told me about the _business partner._ That's wicked sketch"

"Krista," Dean called after her. "I swear to God that I didn't know he'd be here."

"No," Krista repeated before turning and walking across the parking lot.

"Fuck," Dean groaned. "Thanks." He banged his head against the wall next to the door. "How did you even get in here?"

"I taught you to pick locks when you were six," John shrugged. "One room's cheaper than two."

"Yeah, but you know, I've kinda been by myself of a little bit, and I had a since you weren't coming back for a while and knew I had a single room…"

"Job comes first," John shrugged.

"I've been working my ass off on this case," Dean said. "I've done all the legwork. I got the grave marked. All I gotta do is dig it up and burn the bones."

"Then why ain't it done?" John asked.

"Did you not see the hot blonde?" Dean replied. "She was the research portion of this investigation."

"I'm sure she had a lot of interesting things to say," John replied. "But we got a job to do."

"I'm twenty-three," Dean said. "I'm sorry you didn't have fun at twenty-three, but you know maybe you should loosen up a little bit. It's barely midnight, she woulda left by three at the latest. Plenty of time to dig up a grave and burn the bones before midnight."

"Job first, Dean," John said. He grabbed the shot gun from the backside of the desk and stood up. "I don't know how many times I gotta tell you that. You can have your fun when the job's done. Let's burn this mother."

"We aren't in town long enough for me to have any fun," Dean argued.

"You're starting to sound a lot like your little brother," John said walking up into Dean's space. "I'm your father and you don't got any right to talk to me like that. Let's go."

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded. He turned and followed his father out to the truck. He gave him directions to the cemetery.

* * *

When they got there, Dean, of course, did all the digging. John was tired from driving all day and pissed off about Dean's attitude, so Dean dug until he hit the wooden coffin.

John poured the container of salt over the body, when as expected a small translucent ten year old boy appeared next to him.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked. "I need to find my father."

"You're gonna find him, Tommy," Dean nodded. "As soon as we're done here, I promise."

"I have to find my father," Tommy cried. "The train, it crashed."

"I know kiddo," Dean nodded.

"I'm scared," Tommy appeared next to Dean.

John flipped the lighter and stared at the flame for a moment.

"Dad just wait," Dean said quickly. "He's scared."

"It's a ghost, Dean," John sighed.

"A scared little kid ghost," Dean corrected turning to the boy. He kneeled so he could look into its eyes. "It'll be okay. You're dad's probably looking for you too, I promise you. It'll…"

But before he could finish the boy screamed and turned to flame.

* * *

"You start getting attached to the ghosts," John said as they drove back to motel, Dean's face pressed against the passengers window. "You're no good for the job."

"It was a scared little kid," Dean replied. "He didn't mean to kill those people. He was lost and looking for his dad."

"But he killed sixty people, Dean," John said.

"On accident," Dean sighed.

"If you killed sixty people on accident you'd be in jail for the rest of your life," John explained. "We're saving every person who drives down that road at night. If you can't see that, you don't deserve to be a hunter."

"Yeah, okay," Dean sighed.

He wanted to keep fighting with his father. Yelling that maybe he just understood the kid. He missed Sam, John had been weird and distant this last week, but Dean held it in instead. It wasn't worth being yelled at to try to get a straight answer out of his dad. He tried to brush it off as he laid on the floor of the motel room he paid for, not with his money, but still. He stared at the ceiling trying to figure out how to make this work. He just wanted his dad to trust him, be proud of him. He wanted so much, he just didn't know how to get it.

* * *

_AN 2: The original ghost story is about a boy that was killed in a train crash in the 1870's. Later the railway bridge was replaced by a steel bridge; I converted the railway bridge into a road bridge when it was rebuilt for my purposes. The boy is usually seen floating over the river not on the railway or road. I changed that part. The ghost either died along with his father or watched his father die and supposedly looking for his dad. I thought it fit what was happening in this part of my story so shaped it to fit._

_AN 3: There is a weird math situation in the Supernatural timeline. Adam was born in September 1990, which makes him 12 in 2002, when the beginning of this chapter takes place. But when looking to see when John first met Adam, several sources said that it was the same year Sam left for Stanford. But if Sam was born in 1983 he's be 18 in May 2001, therefore graduation HS in June of 2001 and leaving for Stanford that summer (If Sam followed the typical HS to college line). But Adam said he met John when he was 12. So that's not the same year. I'm mostly telling you this because I spent almost two weeks trying to make Adam 12 in 2001 or have Sam leave for school in 2002 and I couldn't and I got really upset and needed to share this with other people._


	57. Chapter 57

Dean learned to suck it up and keep moving. He stopped questioning it when John would take off for a week or two, leaving Dean directions telling him where to go next. Dean took the coordinates and moved, another spirit in Kentucky, a skin walker in Utah, cursed objects in Montana and Mississippi. He followed orders with his head down, trying to think that John didn't think he was good enough to find the cases himself. They'd meet up every so often take down something together, then split up again. They were never actually apart for more than a week and a half at the most, not without John calling saying the job was more complicated than he thought. Dean took to looking for new cases while they were still researching one to try to show his dad that he was capable, but he had a hard time focusing on more than one thing at time.

It was kind of nice, he guested. When he got some down time he got to pretend he was a regular guy just rolling through. He could be who the people around him needed him to be, he didn't need to be the eyes front solider ready to jump when the order was given. He could be anyone, and at this point in his life, that was the closest he got to be himself.

* * *

"We got cattle mutilations, electrical storms, and temperature fluctuations up near Eugene, Oregon." John said as he kicked Dean's boot, pulling the young man's attention from the Walkman he was fiddling with in a motel room in Atlanta. They'd barely been together for a week, just taken out a creature that fed on nightmares, basically scaring children to death and sucking their brains out.

"Great," Dean nodded. "I got something in Maryland, looks like a spirit. It's been taking teenagers that dare each other to spend the night for years."

"I'll let Bobby know, he'll send someone else to it," John said. "Let's get going."

"But... I found my own case," Dean said. "I thought that was our thing now. We do a big job together then split up and do a couple little things."

"You think what's going on in Oregon is a _little_ thing?" John asked seriously.

"I don't know what it is," Dean replied. "Honestly sounds like a freak weather thing."

"Since when are cattle mutilations are a 'freak weather thing,' Dean?" John replied. "You got a problem following orders?"

"No, sir," Dean shook his head and turned his attention back to the Walkman.

"Stop being lazy, then" John replied. "We gotta get going."

"Yeah, okay," Dean sighed and placed the pieces of the Walkman and the screwdriver down on the bedside table. He stood up and started to gather his things.

"Knock off the attitude," John said watching Dean pack his stuff. "I'm getting real sick of dealing with your mouth. You're an adult now, stop acting like a bratty kid."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, standing straight and looking at his dad.

They drove basically nonstop, eating from drive throughs, sleeping for an hour or two at a truck stop before going again. Whatever his dad thought he had in Oregon was a big deal. Dean just wished his dad would let him in on what was going on inside his head.

* * *

"What are we chasing, exactly," Dean asked when they set up camp in Oregon. "Since this is _clearly_ the most important case in the entire universe."

"Honestly," John said sitting at the desk of the motel room. "I don't have the faintest idea. It might be a demon, some kind of weird phenomenon. But I gotta chase it down."

"Why?" Dean asked.

He flipped his journal open and pointed out an entry. Dean walked up and stood over his father's shoulder. There was a crudely draw weather map of the States and list of dates on the page.

"What am I looking at?" Dean asked.

"I was working on it with Bobby," John explained. "Have been for over ten years now. We tracked a very similar pattern across the country. There was something like this in Ohio two years ago, Northern Georgia in '99, up near the Canadian border in in Idaho November '94, Arkansas in '91, member when I ripped you outta school before Thanksgiving and you through a temper tantrum because you had a little girlfriend and friends you played basketball with? This was the thing I was chasing."

"Okay…" Dean said confused. "I was twelve I don't really remember it all that good."

"The first week of November 1983," John grinned looking over to his son. "These signs showed up in Lawrence Kansas."

"You think this might be what killed mom?" Dean asked.

"Maybe," John answered. "Don't know. But it's worth chasing down every lead I can. This is what we've been following for a long time. I can't get ahead of it. I'm trying, but I just can't seem to figure out its pattern. It always leaves before I get where I last tracked it, ends up on the other side of the country six months later. Last time I was this close was in Idaho. Bobby and I got a glimpse of something mutilating the livestock, but not matter what we did, we couldn't kill it."

"But you think we might have it now?" Dean asked, he tried not to sound excited, but this was his whole life. Everything he'd worked for his whole life, he could be looking at the end of a long road.

"Maybe," John nodded. "Still ain't got the faintest as to what it could be, but I haven't been this close in a long time."

"Idaho," Dean nodded. "Over Thanksgiving when Sammy was eleven?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Think I would miss a big holiday with my boys for nothing?"

Dean shrugged. "Didn't think you really noticed what time of year it was. The job came first."

"Other jobs can wait," John insured him. "This thing, though, when I see the signs, I'm all over that mother."

"You really think we can get it?" Dean asked, seriously.

"We just might, kiddo," John smiled. "Let's rest up, talk to the owner of the farm with the cattle deaths in the morning. Sound good?"

"Absolutely," Dean smiled.

He sat down on his head and pulled out the broken Walkman, fiddling with it again.

"What are you doing?" John asked closing his journal. "You've been messing with that thing for a month. I think it might be time to just let it die."

"I think I figured out a way to make it read EMF," Dean replied. "I don't really know how to test it, but I think I got the basics figured out. I'm gonna put lights on the top so it lights up when it's near paranormal energy and stuff."

"Huh," John nodded taking a seat on his bed opposite his son. "Good idea, who taught you that?"

"No one," Dean said not looking up. "I figured it out myself. The sound mechanism is really the only thing in this that works the wheel thing that turns the tapes are broken, but you can still get static. So working from the meters Bobby had laying around, I figured if I tinkered with it enough, I could pick up EMF on the headphones. . I just need a simple job, vengeful spirit or something to test it out. This job's too big to be fucking around with something that might not even work."

"You did this all yourself?" John asked skeptically.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I have a lot of free time."

"Sammy didn't teach ya how to do stuff like that?" John asked as he took off his shoes. "Seems like more of a Sam thing."

"No," Dean shook his head. "Sam's shit at stuff like this. He can't fix a car or anything like that."

"Making an EMF isn't rebuildin' an engine," John replied.

"Kinda is," Dean said. "Same concept, smaller parts. Once I took it apart it was pretty easy to figure it all out."

"Huh," John nodded. "Good for you. That's… um… kinda cool."

Dean smirked a little as he continued. That was pretty close to "I'm proud," Dean would take what he could get. He kept working on his EMF until he was too tired to focus on the tiny part and went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, posing as reporters, they walked up to the house of Mr. and Mrs. McCann an elderly farmer and his wife. Dean was still working on his skills when it came to coning people into believing he was something he wasn't, so he stepped back and let his dad take the wheel.

"We're from The Register," John said flashing a press pass he made on his way over at copy shop. "We were hoping to talk to you about what happened to your cows last week?"

"Why's that news?" Mr. McCann huffed. "Buncha dead cows, no one cares about that."

"Well, sir," John back pedaled. "We've been looking into similar cases in up in Salem and a couple down in Jackson county."

"Guy gets his rocks off killing livestock and gots himself a truck," Mr. McCann answered waving his hands over his head. "That ain't none of my concern. Unless you're paying to get me fifty new milking cows, I ain't got nothing to say to reporters!"

"Alright then, sir," John nodded. "Thank you for your time."

"Get off my porch," Mr. McCann warned. "And I'm watching your little sidekick; I don't like the looks of him. Don't think about trying anything funny."

"I didn't do anything!" Dean exclaimed.

"You look like trouble," Mr. McCann explained. "I can tell by the look of ya."

"Let's go," John said turning around and grabbing Dean's arm. "Thank you again, sir."

"That went nice and smooth," Dean nodded as they got back into the Impala. They'd left John's truck at the motel, no sense in driving two cars all around town. "Definitely got some good leads from that interview."

"Shut the fuck up, Dean," John warned. "Clearly that man saw something he doesn't want to talk about. "

"Or he hates reporters," Dean shrugged as he climbed into the car. "Shoulda done it up as priests."

"This ain't high school drama club, smart ass," John said seriously. "This is a serious job. You don't dress up for fun. You get a badge and you push your way to the front. That's how I've been doing it for over twenty years and there ain't no sense in changing it up now."

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded eyes on the dashboard.

"I'm gonna drop you off at the library," John continued. "I want to see if the McCann's said anything right after it happened to any of the local papers. I'll be back in an hour, we'll grab some lunch, and regroup."

"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked softly.

"I'm going to check of the McCann's barn," John replied. "See if I can get anything."

"What if I used my EMF meter?" Dean asked. "Be a good chance to see if it works. If there was something there it would go off. See if it's worth getting the lights for the top."

"Nah," John shook his head. "You do the library thing."

"You're better at the library thing," Dean replied. "I'm better at the stealthy creeping around thing."

"I think you've been on your own too long," John said, pulling into the parking lot of the library. "Forgot how to do what you're told. I'm not going to put a whole case on a broken Walkman that may or may not pick up EMF. You can test it first. Then we'll use it on a case that isn't so important. Just do what I tell you to do. You gotta problem following orders?"

"No, sir," Dean shook his head. "I was just making a suggestion. I just thought that maybe it would help."

"Right," John nodded placing the car in park. "Well, I'm not messing around with new shit this late in the game. I'll be back in an hour."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied climbing out of the car.

Dean really wanted to ask what crawled up his father's ass, but he knew he was being a dick because of the gravity of the case. He knew deep down that this dad was pretty impressed with what Dean had managed to make out of Sam's broken Walkman. Once Dean could prove to him that it works, he wouldn't a giant asshole. Once whatever they were hunting was killed he wouldn't be so much of an ass. He just had to get through this one case then everything would be fine.

* * *

"I literally got shit," Dean said when John picked him up almost three hours later. "McCann didn't talk to anyone. Only thing I found was the one article you had about the cows dying. No follow up nothing."

"Figures," John sighed. "Barn's clean as far as I can tell."

"So what now?" Dean asked.

"Well," John said. "Every other time I've chased this thing, we've been able to find the center of the storms. If pattern keeps up, there should be another big electrical storm, we just gotta find the center of it, and hopefully, we'll find the creature."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "So we wait."

"Pretty much," John sighed.

"Can we get lunch?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," John answered. "There's a nice looking pizza place down the street. We can look at weather maps while we're there."

"Sounds good."

* * *

"Locals seem to think that the storm killed all the cows," Dean said through a mouthful of fries. "That's what I got from the newspaper article anyway."

"Yeah," John nodded. "But it wasn't. You know that, I know that. We just gotta find this thing and get rid of it."

"But we have no idea what it is?" Dean asked.

"I think it's a spirit," John replied. "An evil son of a bitch that messes with kids and kills whatever gets in their way."

"What?" Dean asked.

"It coulda kill Mary in our bedroom, but it killed her right over Sammy's crib, there's gotta be a reason for that."

"Okay," Dean shook his head. "But spirits are stuck to one place I thought, even evil horrible spirits."

"Yeah," John nodded. "Yeah they are, you're right. I… it's just this case, Dean."

"I get it," Dean replied. "I understand, I really do. I just think maybe we should take a step back, look at _all _of it. I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

"You _don't_ understand this!" John said through tightly clenched teeth. "This is twenty- one years of my life."

"Mine too, Dad," Dean interjected. "This thing has been my whole life, the parts that I remember."

John shook his head.

"You gotta let me help you," Dean said. "You gotta let me be your partner in this or nothing's gonna work. It's gonna take off, and you're gonna be in the same place. I want this thing, too, just let me help."

"Yeah," John nodded. "Yeah okay." He handed Dean the weather map for him to look over. "I think if we go to the middle of the storms, we might be able to figure it out."

"Middle of the storm puts us right not he edge of the McCann property?" Dean asked. "That's what it looks like."

"Yeah," John nodded.

"So, let's head out there." Dean suggested. "Let's head back to the motel, regroup, stock up on whatever we need to kill this thing and go out there."

* * *

It was driving rain when they left the motel just after eight that night. That cold hard piercing rain that burns when it hits exposed skin. The rain was so hard against the windshield of the car that it seemed pointless to try to drive through it, but John wasn't going to let this go. They pulled the car off the road at a bridge by the property line and loaded up on weapons. They crept through the woods surrounding the McCann farm, each loaded up with guns, knives, rock salt, and flasks filled with holy water. Neither was sure what they were going to come up against, but both knew it wasn't going to be anything good. It got colder as they closer to where Dean had pinpointed the storm center of the last three big electrical storms.

"Just on the other side of this hill," Dean yelled over the driving rain.

"Right," John nodded. "I want to set up almost a sniper position, spy over the side."

"Yes, sir," Dean called back. He fell to his knees, crawling on his belly up to the crest of the hill.

As he reached the top of the hill he heard terrible laughing. He turned to look at his dad climbing up the hill next to him. He looked over with panic in his eyes, but his dad just nodded reassuringly.

There was a man standing in the middle of small clearing hands above his head laughing as the rain hit his face.

"Is that… is that Mr. McCann?" Dean asked when is father took position next to him.

"Looks like," John nodded.

John lined up his sawed off on the fallen tree in front of them and before Dean could stop him, fired. Even in the pouring rain the shot echoed. Dean watched McCann get shot, he knows a bullet entered that man's side, but he didn't fall. He turned toward the hill where John and Dean were hiding and raised a hand.

Dean wasn't sure what was happening but he was flying backward a good six feet in the air. His pistol was on the ground by his father who was flat on his back against the cold wet ground watching helplessly as Dean struggled against an invisible force.

"I knew you were a bad seed," although Mr. McCann was still standing in the clearing it sounded like he was standing right next to Dean, whispering in his ear. The rain started to die down as Dean kicked against nothing, scratched at hands that weren't around his neck.

"You really think a punk like you can do anything to hurt me?" Mr. McCann laughed. "Nothing can touch this, nothing in your wildest of dreams."

Dean screamed as something cut into his shoulder, four tiny knives ripping through his shirts into his skin. He can feel it ripping, feel the blood as it started to drip out of the wounds, all the while Mr. McCann laughed.

"Take another shot, Mr. Reporter Man," Mr. McCann called to John. "Let's see what you got, if you can get rid of me before I kill the boy."

"Let him go!" John yelled back, staying in his hidden position. "Let him go and we'll leave."

"I don't believe you, Johnny," the elderly farmer mocked. "I really don't."

Dean screamed again as those tiny invisible knives dug deeper. "Dad, make it stop," he cried, cried like a little kid. "Please, Dad, make him stop."

Not knowing what else to do, John lined up for another shot, but as he got ready to pull the trigger there was rush of wind from the west and a loud thump behind him as Mr. McCann vanished in front of his eyes.

"Dad!" Dean cried. "It hurts, Dad, help. Don't… don't let me die out here."

John turned to see Dean in ball on the ground. He stood, slipping on the slippery leaves as he hurried to his son bleeding on the ground.

"I won't," John promised picking Dean up, cradling him in his arms the best he could and trying to make his way back to the car. "I won't."

"Don't let me die without seeing Sammy," Dean said. "I promised him. I promised Sammy nothing would… nothing bad would happen. I promised."

His face was white, torso cover in blood.

"Shhh," John soothed as he rushed toward the car. "Just calm down, okay. I'll fix it."

"I'm sorry," Dean was gurgling. John was sure whatever Mr. McCann was had done internal damage to his son, but he wasn't going to watch the boy die.

"Don't be sorry, we're all most to the car," John soothed.

The wet ground was hard to maneuver on the way in, but with Dean's dead weight in his arms it was even harder. He went as fast as he could against the wind getting to the car as fast as he could. He was covered in Dean's blood when he placed the shivering pale shell into the back seat.

"I gotta," Dean whimpered fighting against unconsciousness. "You gotta tell Sam I'm sorry."

"You can tell him yourself, kiddo," John said cranking the ignition. "I'm taking you to the hospital. We're gonna get you good as new, then you can tell your brother yourself."

"Don't let me die," Dean pleaded. "I just walked out, I didn't even say goodbye, I just left and I didn't answer when he called and now he hates me and I gotta fix it."

"We'll fix it," John said. "Just close your eyes. We're going to the hospital. Just close your eyes, kiddo. It's okay, don't fight it, just go to sleep."

"Alright," Dean said, slowly letting unconsciousness take over.

* * *

When he woke up, plugged into to all different wires with monitors beeping around him, shoulder wrapped in blood spotted gauze, his dad standing over him with a worried look on his face, he started to cry. One of those silent cries that happen when you're just so happy to be alive. He'd gotten one more second chance to fix it. He was gonna to what he could to make sure he didn't let this one slip by.

* * *

_An: I know this goes a little outside canon, but I really wanted to have Dean _see_ the Yellow Eyed Demon, no necessarily know what the hell it was, but I wanted him to see that thing that killed his mom. _


	58. Chapter 58

Dean kept checking his phone as he sat shotgun in his dad's truck driving from Eugene toward Palo Alto. John thought it best to just let Dean heal and take one car. They'd left the Impala at a parking garage at the Eugene Airport; figured it was the safest place for it for a few days. The truck was also much less recognizable than the Chevy, just in case Sam decided he still didn't want anything to do with his family. Dean left a message asking Sam if he wanted to meet up, but didn't get anything back. After what happened in the woods three days earlier, he wanted nothing more than to hear his little brother's voice, even if he was just saying he was too busy, he wanted to hear that kid's voice. It was only an eight hour drive, so they'd make it in a day; when the pulled off the high way to get gas, Dean walked around the side of the building to make a last minute phone call to his brother.

"Hey, kid," Dean sighed. "It's Dean again. I'm passing through your neck of the woods here in a few hours and I… look… I know I fucked it up but something bad happened on the last hunt. We're fine now, but I just need to see you Sammy. I mean, if you don't wanna see me, cool, whatever, but just call me back and say so. It would mean a lot to just hear your voice. Please, Sam, just pick up the phone. Just call me back okay. We've gotten past worse, just…" the phone beeped saying he'd used all this time. He closed his eyes and pressed "end," then stuck the phone back into his pocket. Hopefully this little brother would get the point.

He was still paying for Sam's cell, so he knew he still had it. It wasn't like he had that excuse. He just hoped that Sam wouldn't be a total dick and call him back. He knew he fucked everything up when he walked out on that party two years previous, and not replying to messages at came when he walked away, but hopefully this brother was enough of a man to just look past it. There _were_ family after all, and if Sam had been taught one thing, family was the most important thing there was.

* * *

It didn't take very much leg work to figure out where Sam lived, mostly because Dean recognized a kid walking down the street as one of Sam's friends from that party a little bit of spying found Sam in a third story apartment, getting ready for the night. They parked in a little alley across the street and watched, made sure that Sam was doing alright.

"You know them kids?" John asked as Sam joked walking down the street oblivious to being watched.

"The blonde dude is Ty Brady? I think," Dean said. "He looks a little different but I think that's Sammy's friend Brady, the dark haired guy is Zach. I met 'em one time. But Sammy would talk about them a lot when he first got here. Went to the blonde kid's house for Christmas freshman year."

"What about the last two?" John asked. "He have a place to go?"

"I haven't talked to him," Dean shook his head. "Not since… not for a while."

"Know what he did over the summer?" John asked solemnly.

Dean shook his head slowly. "No."

"You know that blonde girl?" John asked. "Her and Sam look pretty cozy."

"I'd remember her," Dean answered. "But I didn't meet here when I was here. Definitely not a face I'd forget."

"He looks good," John nodded. "Happy."

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Last time I talked to him, he was… he was doing real good. Ace-ing classes and stuff, you know, the regular Sammy thing. Had a really good roommate, nice group of friends. He seemed well-adjusted, in his element, you know."

"Good for him," John nodded. "He's doing real good for himself."

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Looks real good."

They sat there in silence for a little while, just watching Sam and his friends hang out, laugh at unheard jokes, told unheard stories. They just watched Sam _live_ like they hadn't in far too long.

"I bet you could walk right up to him," John said softly, as the young man Dean thought was Brady passed around shot glasses. Sam pretended to take his, and dropped it down the sink. Words that Sam had said a long time ago about not wanting to end up like dad, not wanting to be that person that drank all the time ringing in his ears.

"He'd punch me in the face," Dean chuckled. "We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"Can't be any worse than how I left things," John replied. "There's a lot of things I would change Dean, a whole lot."

"He knows," Dean said. "He knows you didn't mean what you said that night."

"Thing is though," John replied turning toward his eldest son. "At the time I did. I really did mean it. But damn it, biggest regret of a life full of regrets what I did that kid."

"You did your best," Dean said. "We both know that. What happened to mom, I mean, there's a lot worst lives we coulda lived."

"I drive through here all the time," John said, turning back to the little apartment building across the street. "Just hoping he sees me and stops me. I've followed him to classes, he has job at the student union, tends bar at a little place just off campus. He scams the crap out of drunken kids at pool tables and playing poker. He's doing real good for himself. But it's like watchin' a movie."

"I know," Dean nodded. "But he knows you care. Knows you're proud of him. I mean I doubt he brags about what the old man does for a living, but he knows you want what's best for him."

"Just wish I could tell him," John said. He placed a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder before starting the truck back up again. "Let's head back, I gotta time sensitive thing up in Minnesota I gotta take care of."

"Want me to go with you?" Dean asked.

"Nah," John shook his head. "I can take care of it. I'll drop you off at the Impala. Why don't you head over the Maryland, take care of the spirit you were talking about? See if that Walkman thing of yours works. Could be a real good tool if it works."

"What's in Minnesota?" Dean pressed. "You've been heading there a lot lately."

"Nothing," John shook his head. "It just something I gotta take care of myself. Nothing you gotta worry about. Something I've been working on for a while."

"Right," Dean nodded. "Okay sure. You've been there_ at least _ten times in the last two years. Is it something I could give you and hand with? I mean, I might need a couple more days for my shoulder to be a hundred percent but seriously, Dad, I'll help ya take it down."

"Just do your thing in Maryland," John said. "You found that case, might as well take care of it. We'll meet up when you wrap that thing up and move forward. I got the thing in Minnesota, don't worry about it. Why don't you look for something big after Maryland we'll take it down together? Or look for more signs of that thing we just dealt with? Whatever that son of a bitch is, it's looking at a world of hurt when we figure out how to gank it."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "Whatever you want."

"Don't be a wise ass, Dean," John sighed.

"I wasn't," Dean replied. He placed his forehead against the window.

"If I find out you're being a little smart ass and following me around you won't live to regret it, understand?" John asked.

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "I gotta be up front with you, but you can keep whatever weird ass secrets you want in Minnesota. You know if you got a girlfriend or something it's really not that big a deal. I'm twenty five years old; I think I can handle it. I won't accuse you of cheatin' on mom or anything like that. It would probably be good for you, actually."

"Mind your own business," John demanded. "I don't get all up in yours when you gotta girl."

"Really?" Dean shifted so he was facing his father in the small cab of the truck. "The last serious girlfriend I had you made me break up with because you didn't want to stay in Ohio for another day. The one before that you _forbid _me to see because she was a few years older than me. You told me I couldn't hang out with a girl in Massachusetts because you didn't like the look of her. Want me to keep going? Cuz I got a lot more."

"That says more about you than me, son," John replied. "Just leave it alone. And that little slut in Amherst was a horrible influence and had you doing drugs. So don't tell me that I'm being a big jerk that doesn't want you to be happy, because that's not what I did. I was protecting you."

"She_ wasn't_ a slut," Dean sighed. "Why does everyone say shit like that?"

"I'm really not one to listen to rumors," John shook his head but never took his eyes off the road. "But some of the shit I heard while you were in that coma about that girl… I just… I don't know what you saw in her. But she sounded like a little hussy if I've ever heard of one."

Dean rolled his eyes. "She was a nice girl, from a good home with good parents. They had fuckin' Sunday dinner together every week. It was seven years ago, what's the point of arguing about it now?"

"Sometimes it's the nice girls from the respectable families that get themselves knocked up," John shrugged. "Sometimes it's the bad seeds in the good home. I heard it both ways from the nurses sitting in that hospital."

"What?" Dean suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Last name was Keeton right?" John asked. "Olivia Keeton? Had a friend, Maggie."

Dean nodded. "Yeah." That feeling he had the night he curled around his little brother after Olivia told him what was going on rushed over him again. That feeling of helplessness in a situation he couldn't control.

"Her friend's mom was a nurse," John continued. "One of the nurses that looked after you while you were out. I would hear her gossiping with the night nurse about her daughter's friend Olivia and how she managed to get herself knocked up by some college kid. She apologized that she kept talking about it around me but I told her I'd be hearing the same crap if you were awake so it didn't really bother me."

"A college kid," Dean repeated.

"Yeah, nurse said something like that chick was messing around in an apartment building on the campus or something, like you said it was seven years ago. I don't remember the specifics of the whole thing. Doesn't really matter now does it?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "Course not, why would that matter now?" He did his best not to panic, there could be a little kid back east that looked like him, but didn't know who he was. He knew how horrible it was to grow up like that, with one parent.

"You alright kiddo?" John asked turning to look over a Dean for a second. "You had big plans with her the night we took down that poltergeist right? I seem to remember you bein' real bitchy about not wanting to go after it until after some big date."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yeah but we got in a big fight, like you said she was a bad influence on Sammy… you're sure that that nurse said it was a college guy?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "I remember that part, because I knew you and her were together, and I was about ready to kill ya myself if I found out you knocked up some girl. Never would have let Bobby take to back to his place if I thought you had a kid floating around. I'd like to think that I raised you better than that."

"Sammy made it sound like you didn't stick around too long after I got hurt," Dean said, trying to change the subject. "Said you just went off on some hunt while I was laid up."

"Well, kinda," John nodded. "You weren't exactly getting better in a timely fashion and I had shit to do. And I got kicked out of the ICU for yellin' at a doctor, and what was the point of being in Amherst if you in the hospital and I couldn't see ya. So I took off, couldn't just sit around and do nothin' so went off and did something useful."

"Oh," Dean nodded. "That makes sense I guess."

"But that girl," John replied. "There's no chance that… it' just there's some times that I watch you being you, how you are with girls and I get worried about you."

"I'm smarter than that," Dean nodded. "We only… you know… one time. And I'm not an idiot. This is the first time I'm ever hearing anything about it. If she was… you know… you'd think she might tell me, right?"

"Of course," John nodded. "Good."

Dean stared forward, letting a silence fill the cab of the truck. He was filled with guilt, horrible gut twisting guilt, but he'd done what he could back then. He'd written to her, he'd sent Sam out to talk to her, tell her what happened why he wasn't around like he said he would be. He was a frickin' coma for fucks sake, he'd done what he could it was her fault if she didn't feel the need to say anything back. He couldn't go back and fix it now. It wasn't his place to show up and disturb everything. And Maggie, from what Dean remembered Maggie wasn't exactly fond of him, what reason would she have to lie to her mom about who the father of her friend's baby was. Maggie would have known everything. Maybe he didn't have anything to worry about.

"Dad," Dean sighed. "_Hypothetically,_ if you found out that you had another kid out there, what would you do?"

"Be there," John answered with no hesitation. "If I got a phone call tomorrow telling me I had a six year old kid in Massachusetts, you can bet your ass that I'd be hauling back east. You can't just go and uproot their life, but you can enrich it. Just be there, be a dad, do what's right. I know you don't got the best role motel, but I know you could figure it out. You're a smart kid."

Dean nodded.

"If you got… if you think even a little bit that there's a fraction of a chance that Olivia had your kid, when we get back to that Chevy, you'd better in Amherst hunting her down," John said seriously.

"Yes sir," Dean nodded. "She would have said something to me, though, right? You'd think? I mean I saw her every day at school and stuff. It would have come up."

"At seventeen," John shrugged. "Who knows what would go through a girl's head? Lord knows I wasn't the brightest at seventeen, from what I remember you didn't do much thinking with your brain. Honestly, most of the time, I still think you're not thinking with your brain."

Dean chuckled to himself. "Maybe."

"But when you do," John said. "You do real good, Dean. You do some really, really great things. That Walkman thing, some of the things I've seen you do on hunts… sometimes I think I'm too emotionally involved, but you, kiddo, you can think war strategy like I haven't seen since I was in war. Sometimes I look at you and I just wish I'd done better."

"You don't gotta make this a sappy girl movie, Dad," Dean smirked.

"I'm serious," John replied.

"I know you are," Dean answered. "I know."

Dean and John didn't have heart to hearts very often, never, if Dean remembered correctly, or at least not since he was a little. It was nice to hear his dad say the words, but that didn't make it any less weird.

"If it's cool," Dean said. "I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when it's my turn to drive."

"Sure thing," John nodded.

Dean shifted down in the seat a little bit, let his head fall against the window and closed his eyes. He had a lot running through his head, the broken relationship with his kid brother, a girl her hadn't thought about for the better part of a decade. He had a lot to figure out in the next three hours while he slept before his dad made them switch off. Was it worth going to Amherst to figure out a part of his life he thought was closed, or should he keep moving like his dad never said anything? He had a lot to think about, choices he could change the course of his life forever.


	59. Chapter 59

After John dropped Dean off at the car, he sat staring at the dashboard for a while. He had a huge decision to make, the hardest decision of his life. Was it worth disturbing someone's life for a rumor his dad _might_ have heard years ago when he was watching his son in coma? Would it be right for him to walk into a kid's life when they were six years old not knowing what Olivia told them about him? What if Olivia had spent the kid's whole life telling the kid Dean abandoned them? What if she told the kid Dean was dead? What kind of jerk shows up on a doorstep six years too late and asked to see a child he wasn't supposed to know about? On the flip side, though, there could be a little kid in Massachusetts with his eyes, one the _deserved_ to know him, one that was growing up without a dad, one that had the right to two parents. Growing up with one parent _sucked_. Dean knew that, how could he sit here and think that it would be okay for his kid to grow up the same why he did? What if it was a little girl? Didn't a little girl need a dad? Didn't a little girl need someone to hold their hand and have little tea parties with and to kiss skinned knees? Didn't a little boy need someone to teach him to fish and throw a ball and ride a bike? Wouldn't his life have been so much easier if his mom had been there? He thought about how different his life would be if he mom was around all the damn time. He spent a decent amount of his life trying to figure out a way to bring her back, to make it better. Why should he let another little kid grow up thinking they weren't good enough for their dad to stick around? What kind of person was he if he just ignored these responsibilities?

Dean hit his forehead against the steering wheel. This was the situation he was trying to avoid by calling her when he was in the hospital. _This_ was why Dean wrote her a letter telling her that if she wanted to talk to him to call Bobby. _This_ was why he called her sixteen time is three days after he woke up from the coma trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't want to have this problem. He didn't want to feel guilty about something he shouldn't feel guilty about. He did everything he was supposed to. He did everything right. It should be on him to go back and check on an ex-girlfriend to make sure she wasn't pregnant. He was screwed either way. Either he was a horrible dead beat dad, or he'd be a freak showing up to mess up two people's lives years too late.

This was a no win situation. Dean _hated_ no win situations, spent a good chunk of his life doing his best to avoid them. There was no amount of research he could do to know what was best. There was no hand book on what on this. He couldn't call up Bobby and ask him. He thought about Olivia, the look of fear and confusion on his face when she cried into his shoulder the night she told him she might be pregnant, how she did her best to avoid telling him in the first place. Maybe it was in his best interest to just leave well enough alone. If Olivia needed him she had Bobby's contact information. Lord knew that if Bobby got a call telling him Dean had a kid he'd be blowing up Dean's phone to get a hold of him. Probably chew him a nice brand new asshole for not doing something about it.

He looked up at the purple-black sky through the windshield looking for the right answer. Sam always told him he'd know what the right thing was. His dad had told him he'd make the right choice. But he couldn't figure it out. He didn't know what to do. His eyes stung. He didn't want this. He did everything he could back then, everything he thought was the right thing. Dean didn't know what it said about him to walk away, to pretend his dad had never told him, wasn't sure if that made him a coward or bad person, but he didn't want this. He didn't want to sit around and feel guilty about something he couldn't control. He'd be a shit dad anyway.

* * *

Maryland was a relativity easy hunt. This history of the house was pretty public knowledge. A woman supposedly murdered her husband and three of their children and buried them in the basement. Now the spirit of the man killed every woman that ever dared entered his home. It was said to be because he was afraid it was his wife coming back to kill their two children that weren't killed the first time around. With his new EMF meter he was able to find the body in the basement quickly, dig it up before night fall, a simple salt and burn that took all of a day to complete. Seeing his homemade meter light up in the presence of a spirit was one of the proudest moments of his life. He'd done something good; real good. This was going to be a huge asset in upcoming hunts.

He pulled into the parking lot of the motel he was staying in for the night and contemplated heading north. John wasn't done in Minnesota yet, he'd have time to drive up to Massachusetts and find out what was going on before John wrapped up whatever he was doing. Instead he grabbed a paper, started looking for new cases that would take him away from the east coast. He knew the Midwest always had more than its share paranormal activity.

Dean decided to call his dad the next morning, figure out what to do next.

"Hey, Dean, where are ya?" John asked when he picked up on the second ring.

"Maryland," Dean answered. "That job was a lot easier than I thought it would be, my EMF meter works. Lights up like a Christmas tree when magnetic fields change."

"Maryland," John sighed. "Decided against what we talked about?"

"I did what I thought was best," Dean answered. "No point in showing up outta the blue about something that ain't none my business."

"Alright," John replied. "If that's what you think it best. I can't make ya do something ya don't want to. I just thought…"

"What?" Dean questioned.

"Nothing," John said. Dean could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"You want me to go up there?" Dean asked. "I thought about it, Dad, I did. I thought about it the whole ride this way. When I left Amherst with Bobby I wrote her a letter telling her what was going on with me. I gave her Bobby's information, phone number, address, everything, if she wanted to get in touch me with she could have. She didn't want to. It's not my place to fuck everything up."

"Whatever you think, Dean," John sighed into the phone. "Why are ya calling?"

"I just wanted to know what you're plans were," Dean said. "Where do you wanna head after you wrap it up out there?"

"I'm thinking Missouri," John answered. "If you were reading the paper and the weather reports like I told you to, you'd notice that we got lighting storms and all sorts of crazy shit going on, looks a whole hell of a lot like that thing from Oregon."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "So I'll meet ya there?"

"Fine," John sighed. "Be there in a few days."

"Why are you being such an asshole?" Dean spat into the phone. "I didn't do anything. I called you like you said to."

"Don't talk to me like that, Dean," John replied into the receiver. "You know damn well what I'm upset about and I really don't think I need to explain myself to you. Just go to Battlefield Missouri and let me know what motel you check into. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Dean sighed.

The phone went dead and Dean just stared at his cell phone. He could never seem to do right; no matter what he did his dad would find something wrong with it. After twenty years of listening to his dad's disappointment, Dean figured he would be used to it by now, but that wasn't the case. He still wanted his dad to tell him he did well. Be proud of that broken Walkman doing everything Dean promised it would. But no, why would his dad do that?

* * *

Missouri was a steaming pile of nothing. If that thing was there, it was gone by the time Dean and John got there. The two of them sat in the motel Dean picked out trying to find new gigs somewhere nearby. John was pissed, but that was a major part of his personality. Dean did his best not to take it personally, but it was his dad, and he was mad at him again for something he couldn't control.

"If you'd been paying attention we woulda gotten here sooner," John shrugged. "If you _ever_ listened to me, this would be taken care of by now."

"Really?" Dean shook his head. "It's my fault that thing that's been allusive for over twenty years disappeared again? Sounds about right."

"Don't disrespect me," John spat. "I told you to do something and you completely ignored me."

"I asked for _advice_," Dean replied. "About a situation you know _nothing_ about. I used that _advice _to make a decision. It just wasn't a decision you liked. I don't want that, Dad. I don't want to tied down to something like that. It's not my place to go destroying someone's life for no reason. I don't need to drag another little kid and a chick into this life. They deserve better than that. And without me butting in up there they'll be just fine. Right now they're doing just fine without me. I don't need to go around screwing up anyone else's life."

"Just cuz you don't want kids doesn't mean you get to walk away," John said seriously. "If that girl… Dean, if that girl had your kid out there, you can't just pretend it didn't happen. You have a responcibitly to her, and that kid. You don't get to just say fuck it and walk away."

"I'm not," Dean defended. "I'm really not. I didn't know. What was I supposed to do, read her mind? It was seven years ago. That kid would be six years old now. If she needed me or if it was my kid in the first place she knew how to get a hold of me."

"You can't just pretend it never happened," John shook his head.

"I'm not pretending it didn't happen!" Dean yelled. "She knows how to get in touch with me. If she wanted me to know about it, she would have told me. She would have called me back. She would have called Bobby after we left. Just because you overheard nurses talking while you were in a waiting room while I was in a fucking coma doesn't mean that I should drop everything a run a decade later. If you really thought I knocked up some high school girl you have dragged my ass back there when you found out we were at Bobby's. And you know damn well that if Bobby had an ounce of intell telling him Libby was pregnant he wouldn't have let me leave the fucking hospital. I didn't do anything wrong. _If_ she had my kid, she didn't want me to know. So I'm just gonna leave it, cuz it's the right thing to do right now. I don't need to go knocking on her door and fucking up her life on an old rumor."

"You don't know what you're missing out on," John shook his head.

"Speaking from experience?" Dean laughed shaking his head. "Cuz you know all about missing out on shit? Sammy used to complain about it all the fucking time. 'Why didn't Dad teach me how to ride a bike?' 'Why were you the only one who cared how well I did in school?' Cuz you didn't give a _fuck_ about either of us. Dumped us on whoever would take us, left me to raise my kid brother. So that's the role model I got to work from, your _fantastic _example. I'm just doing the same frickin' thing you do to us. And the kids probably better off anyway. I'd be a horrible father."

"You shut your fucking mouth," John demanded. "You don't know a damn thing."

"I fucking _lived _it," Dean replied. "You say that there's a whole bunch of shit you'd changed. You'd treat Sammy different; you won't be such an asshole about him going to school. You go spy on him at Stanford. You talk about how fucking proud him you are."

"I am," John said. "I'm real proud of what your brother's accomplished. He's done real good for himself."

"What about me?" Dean whispered. "What about me who follows you around the fucking country never asking you why. Just following doing whatever you say. Why aren't you proud of me? Why is everything I do wrong?"

"I'm not fighting with you," John rolled his eyes. "Stop acting like a little girl."

"I'm not," Dean groaned. "I'm not, I'm just asking you a question and you're ignoring me,_ again_. Why don't I matter? Why is everything still about Sam? You haven't talked to him in three freakin' years. I'm here with you every day. I'm doing the job that you trained the two of us to do. Sammy bailed. I stood by. You should… I don't know… give shit."

"You matter," John sighed. "Is that what you wanna hear? I'm glad your stupid toy works. That it lights up and makes noise or whatever. You happy now, Princess?"

"No," Dean whispered so quiet he barely heard it himself. "I'm not. Cuz you're just being an asshole. Why don't you tell people you've just met that you're proud of what I do? You go and tell a guy that works in airport control room you've met _once_ how proud you are of Sammy and just look at me like I'm in the fucking way. I'm sitting working on something that's going to be _helpful_, that's going to make the job easier and you fucking laugh at me and tell me it's a waste of time."

"You took a part a Walkman," John sighed. "Calm down, you're acting like an idiot. I don't got time to deal with you PMS-ing . I got a job to do. If you wanna have a nice long cry about it, do it on your own time."

Dean grabbed his jacket off the back of chair as he stood up. He put it on and fished the keys out of the front pocket.

"You go get drunk," John called after him. "I don't want you behind the wheel of that car. You crash it, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Dean rolled his eyes. If his dad cared half as much about him as he did that car he might not feel like this, like he had no control.

Dean loved his dad, honestly, he'd die for him, he'd jump no matter how high his dad asked him to, but sometimes he was just… just a dick. Maybe working apart was better. Maybe Dean should start looking for his own hunts. Sam seemed to be doing well without them. Maybe that's what Dean needed, a fresh start. He wouldn't cut his dad out. He knew how much it hurt when Sam did that to him, he couldn't do that, but maybe he'd just put some distance between them for a while. He didn't need to feel like he was holding his dad back. He was good, real good, at the job he did. He had plenty of solo hunts under his belt as evidence. He didn't need a partner. He could do it alone. Maybe that would finally prove that he was good enough. Maybe that was all he needed.

* * *

_AN: I'm getting very close to the end of this story. If it works the way I want it to (Dean seems to be fighting me), the next chapter will the conclusion. _


	60. Chapter 60

_AN: There is some dialogue in this chapter that is taken directly from the Pilot Episode. Also everything I know about voodoo I learned from a series of Wikipedia articles, so if it's REALLY wrong let me know and I'll fix it, but I did try._

* * *

Dean decided it was best to stay away from his dad for as long as possible. They talked on the phone once or twice a week, making sure the other one was alive, offering up hunts they'd found that the other one was close to, but they didn't see each other until the next fall. Dean liked being on his own, just him and his car and endless miles of highway. He didn't have to get a motel room. If he played his cards right he could find himself in a lady's bedroom most nights, and the Impala was good enough on the nights he struck out or was just too tired to try.

He was able to chase after cases that worked to his strength, his dad told him he was being lazy, but Dean liked vengeful spirit cases. He _liked_ looking into the history of a town or a house and trying to put that puzzle together. He liked him a good monster kill every now and again, but he liked the chase the game that ghost stories set in front of him. John liked a different kind of case; he liked having blood on his hands. Dean didn't he didn't like feeling like he'd taken something from someone. The real monsters could have families, ghosts didn't. He wasn't taking a mom away from a little kid if helped a spirit cross over. He was if he shot a shape shifter.

His dad was out hunting after what he thought killed Mary; followed it back and forth across the country a couple time before he and Dean met up again. From what Dean could get out of him when his dad shared, he wasn't any closer to figuring out what it was, or how to kill it, than he was when it held Dean against that tree in Eugene and tried to kill him.

John decided that he and Dean should work on a demon case in Tennessee together in late September. Dean made the drive to the motel John was holed up in from Utah in a couple days. Along the way, Dean thought it might be nice to work with his dad again. He was almost excited about it. They'd had enough time apart to cool the waters; maybe his dad would be different.

* * *

Dean sat on his bed in the motel cleaning guns in preparation for the next day. John was writing in his journal at the little table while they talked.

"You're _sure_ it's demons?" Dean asked. "It's not witches or a weird God or something?"

"I know how to do my job," John grunted.

And with that, Dean remembered why he'd left in the first place.

"Then why do you need me?" Dean sighed. "If you got this all under control why bother?"

"Two man job," John replied, not looking up from his book.

Not "It might be nice to see you," or "I missed having you around," it was about the job, nothing else. Nothing else ever seemed to matter.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," John said. "I figured you might want a job that's not a prissy nothing case like all the ones you've been working since you walked out. I didn't have to call you in. If you think it's too much for you, I'll get someone else."

"I can handle it," Dean replied softly.

"Good," John said. "Maybe this will get you to take on some worthwhile cases."

"I_ do_ take on worthwhile cases," Dean answered. "I'm saving people."

"Ghosts are rookie jobs," John shrugged. "I figured you'd be a better hunter after everything you've done."

Dean stared down at his gun, he said nothing as he polished and made sure it was spotless.

"I just hope you're not rusty," John continued. "I got an exorcism for you to memorize."

He tossed a piece of paper in Dean's direction.

"I can't memorize this," Dean said as he looked down at a page of Latin. That was Sam's thing. Dean could probably read it off the page if he had a while to practice, but he'd never be able to memorize it. Definitely not on the time table his dad was asking.

"Why not," John sighed. "And don't give me some I got a learning disability bullshit. You've been using that excuse since you were eight. I'm getting sick of it."

"It didn't go away because I'm not in school anymore," Dean explained. "This is in a different freakin' language. I couldn't memorize a fuckin' ten line poem when I was in high school, I'm not going to be able memorize this shit. It's a ridiculous request and you know it. Have you memorized that?" Dean shook the paper back at his dad.

"Don't change the subject," John shook his head. "This is about you not following orders. I need you to know that so that we can get rid of the demon that's cutting up people for fun. Unless you're looking to become a crouton on an intestine salad, I suggest you get working. I can't have you half assing a demon job. You're twenty six now, Dean. I really don't want to hear little kid excuse about why you can't do something simple."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. It wasn't an excuse. It was a page of _Latin_ that he'd never seen before. He didn't even know how to pronounce half those words. He had less than a day to memorize it and be able to recite it backward and forward before the next night. He should have said no when his dad called. He should have kept flirting with that diner waitress. He would probably still be at her house right now if he hadn't said yes. That chick was gorgeous, and wouldn't give two shits about whether or not he could recite Latin exorcisms or not.

"It's not that I don't _want_ to do, sir," Dean said softly. "It's that I literally can't. I'm sorry that you can't understand this, but I've been trying to explain it to you most of my life and you just don't listen. I _can't_ just memorize random shit."

"You can turn a Walkman into an EMF and rebuild an engine but you can't memorize a piece of fucking paper," John hit his fist against the table. "Don't bullshit me, Dean. That's a whole hell of a lot easier than rebuilding a fucking engine."

"My brain doesn't work that way," Dean shrugged. "It just doesn't. I'm not Sam. He can memorize this and recite it for the next twenty years. I _can't_ that's just how it is. If you want someone that can read Latin like a children's book, call him. But seeing as it will be a cold day in hell before that happens, accept that I can't do it."

"You didn't have to come out here if you don't want," John said, finally looking up. "If you wanted to stick with your little pansy salt and burns you could have just said so instead of drive across the country to give me lip."

Dean looked down at the bed spread and fiddled with the piece of paper next to him.

"Let's just get this hunt over with," Dean mumbled. "Then I got some big things planned after this."

"Got another serial killer ghost?" John rolled his eyes.

"I've been looking into this voodoo thing in New Orleans," Dean confessed. "Looks pretty big, actually, if you want to know."

"Think you'll need help with it?" John asked.

"No sir," Dean looked up and smirked sourly. "I know how to do my job. You have any plans after this?"

"I actually found something I thought would be your speed," John replied. "In Jericho California a bunch of men have gone missing, all at night, all on the same stretch of road, never seen from again."

"Sounds fun," Dean nodded.

"If you wanna switch," John said.

"Not after all the research I've put onto voodoo in New Orleans," Dean sighed. "I've been looking into this for a little over a month."

"You just let it go on for over a month while you pussy footed around?" John replied.

"No," Dean explained. "I don't want to walk in unprepared and get myself killed. I'm going to bed. Get nice and rested for this."

"You're not even going to try to memorize the exorcism?" John spat. "I thought I raised you better than that."

Dean let out a long slow breath as he put his guns away. Deep down he knew his dad meant well, that he cared. His dad just didn't know how to talk to him. It took a lot not to take it to heart sometimes.

Dean tucked the exorcism into his back pocket as he and his dad set out late the next morning. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. He always thought that he and his dad had a nice relationship, but it was a much better one when it was done over the phone. Dean could always hang up when his dad started to nitpick and yell. He couldn't do that when they were face to face.

"We're going to warehouse on the outskirts of town," John explained. "I got so spray paint in the tool box, I want you set up some devil traps, do your best to cover then up with rugs or whatever. We're going to try to trick 'em into stepping into it."

"You gotta picture to work from?" Dean asked.

"In my tool box," John answered. "You'll be able to handle that?"

"Yes sir," Dean nodded. "As long as I got a template to work from."

"Right then," John said punching the gas as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Let's do this."

* * *

Dean wasn't sure how John lured the demons to the warehouse. All he knew was that when he was done spray painting the devil's traps on the floor they were there; two women in their twenties and an older man all with too sure of themselves smiles and black eyes. If he was being honest with himself, Dean was petrified. He'd seen what demons were capable off, stitched the wounds his dad had come home with after a showdown with these creeps. He'd seen the bodies that they've ridden hard and left to die slowly. He _hated_ jobs like this. Jobs when people would have to die to get a win. The people these demons were possessing weren't going to make it out of this building. He'd be responsible for that.

His dad, though, John was in his element. These things didn't scare him, didn't push him back him his heals even a little bit.

"Hunters," one of the women, a red head snickered. "And they think they got the jump on us."

"We do," John nodded looking back to Dean. "We knew you were coming."

The man held his hand up and Dean went flying. He hit the wall with such force he struggled to breathe. On his way through the air, he managed to kick over a table that he'd placed over one of the traps to hide it from the demons. A sickening laugh filled the air as Dean gasped for breath.

"You really had it planned out didn't ya?" the red headed woman laughed. "Thought you'd trick up into the little traps and everything would be rainbows afterward? Oh no, we're much smarter than you think."

"Let him go," John demanded.

"Or what?" The red head smirked. "What could you possibly do?"

John pulled a book of matches out of his pocket, lit one and dropped it on the floor of the dirty warehouse. Dean wasn't sure when his dad had done it, probably while he was spray painting, but around the three demons a fire started in that familiar shape.

"Dirty warehouses are full of gasoline and oil," John smiled. "If you're not playing attention you can step right into a grease trap. Now let Dean go."

The man dropped his hand and Dean slumped to the floor.

"Start reading," John demanded. "No matter what happens, _do not stop_."

Dean pulled the wrinkly piece of paper out of his pocket and started to stumble through the unfamiliar words.

"If you don't say it right, it don't work," the man laughed through a hacking cough.

Dean hoped his was joking, trying to make him stop. So he pressed, stumbling a few times, but pushing right through. He was doing his best. He just hoped his dad thought so.

John stalked around the demons are the fire started to die. "Finish it up Dean-o. We gotta get this done."

Dean nodded and kept on reading, finally reached the end and looking up to see three pillars of smoke heading toward the ceiling. He had succeed.

Dean got up off the ground and made his way to the bodies. The red head was cold, long dead. The other woman was still warm, but Dean couldn't find a pulse. The man's skin was a sickening grey that made Dean think he'd been dead longer than the red head. They'd won, but they still had a body count on their hands.

Dean shook his head as he walked back to his dad.

"They didn't make it," Dean confirmed.

"The possessed rarely do," John nodded clapping Dean on the back. "I knew you could do it if you tried."

Dean nodded and turned to walk out back to the truck. He didn't like leaving corpses; he couldn't understand why his dad could.

They spilt up the next morning. It seemed like it would be for the best. They were a good team, but always worked really well apart.

"Call me if you need help on the voodoo thing," John said as they packed up their respective vehicles. "And you should probably look into detailing the car. It's gonna rust if you don't."

"Yeah, okay sir," Dean nodded closing the trunk. "I'll do that right after I finish up this case. I don't really got prospects after so I'll have some down time."

"You did good with the exorcism," John said. "You did just fine. You keep practicing you'll get better at it. I probably should have had both you and Sammy learnin' Latin, but I never really figured…"

"Never counted on Sammy takin' off," Dean nodded. "Yeah, me either."

"You're plenty smart, Dean," John said. "That's not what I was gettin' at. You can do anything, Dean. You really can. You don't have to take little hunts because you don't think you're good enough. You can do it. You can take down things like that."

"That's not why I do what I do," Dean replied. "But thanks. I'll call ya when I wrap that up. You call me when you're finish up in Jericho?"

"Absolutely," John nodded. He clapped Dean hard on the shoulder before both men get into their respective vehicles.

* * *

Dean _hated_ witches. He hated everything they stood for and what they did. It was gross, unsanitary. He was pretty sure some of it steamed from that witch he ended up dating Sam's senior year of high school, but seriously. From what Dean could gather from his internet search, the five people that have died were all enemies of a family that was known in the community for working her hand with voodoo. He wasn't really sure what he was going to do when he found this woman, but he through he was pretty good at persuading people to do things.

He hadn't been to New Orleans since becoming legal, and there was much more that Dean could enjoy that he could when he was nine. He knew he had a job to do, but the lights of the city called to him. He took a deep breath and found a motel with a vacancy. He unpacked his car, repeating over and over in his head that he could have fun when it was over. He didn't have anything else pressing when this hunt was over and Bourbon Street wasn't going anywhere. He pulled out his phone as he settled in for the night and called his dad like he always did when he got to a new city.

"Hey," Dean said to John's voice mail. "I'm in New Orleans, settling into a motel for a while, might stick around here after I get this job done, see the sights, right. Let me know when you get to Jericho. Talk to you later."

He hung up and flipped backward onto the bed. The best part of motels was free cable, and since some dude named Hector Aframian was paying he was gonna make the most of it.

He didn't hear from his dad before taking off the next day to head down to the store the old woman Dean suspected to be behind the weird murders, but that wasn't too unusual. John didn't feel like he had to check in with his son the way the Dean felt like he needed to tell his dad he was okay. Dean wouldn't have been able to sleep at night if he didn't know where Sam was when he first left, he figured part of him wanted John to feel the same way.

The woman he was looking for ran a tourist trap voodoo shop. She wore a big smile and answered every question Dean asked about her religion and the culture. He'd gotten there right when the doors opened so he was the only one in the store. He had this woman's full attention.

"We do not seek violence, young man," she told Dean. "It's very sad that people have made my culture all about revenge and hatred. Our magic is about luck and preventing the bad things."

"It's too bad about those murders around here then," Dean said, locking eyes with this seemly kind old woman.

"Yes, yes," she nodded. "I knew them, very good people. It's a shame."

"And people are chalkin' it up to voodoo dolls and curses," Dean pressed. "Some even say they had it comin'."

"I don't know what you're getting at young man, but I don't think I like where it's going," the woman said, trying to make herself big, scare Dean away. "That isn't how we work."

"It's not," Dean asked seriously. "Because those deaths are awfully suspicious and they all got something about you written all over them. "

"I think I might want you to leave."

"And if I don't," Dean smirked. "You gonna put a nice spell on me too?"

"I don't like the way you're talking."

"I know things, ma'am," Dean continued. "A little bit about a lot of things, I don't know how you're doing it, ma'am, but I can find out. I want us both to walk way whole, unharmed. I'm just asking you to stop it."

"You know nothin'," The woman declared.

"I know you're pulling the strings," Dean replied. "I _know_ you're behind it. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt_ anybody_. I don't want to see anybody else get hurt. The last time I came across someone with powers and skills like yours they did _a lot_ of damage. I'm just here to warn you, ma'am. I don't want to have to come back."

"Empty threats about something you know nothing about," the woman said, walking toward Dean and ushering him toward the door.

"I believe when you say that you're peaceful, that this religion is peaceful," Dean said as she pushed at him. "I don't want anyone else that I work with coming across what's going on down here and shooting first. If you've ever met someone in my line of work, another hunter, you know that most of them don't ask questions. You seem like a real nice lady that just got in a bit of tight spot, ma'am. I can only make promises for myself, but I can make a few calls and there will be a couple guys down here that aren't quite so nice. I don't want to hurt you, I really don't. But you keep twisting my arm, it don't matter what you can do to me, I got friends who know where I am."

"If…" she whispered. "I'm not saying I know what you're talking about but… if the curse ends…"

"If you end the curse you won't see me or anyone I know again," Dean promised. "No more deaths. You say you can play with luck? Just give them bad luck. No more blood needs to be spilt here. Just let it go, revenge is nice, ma'am, but there's a line when gettin' it, believe me on that one."

"Get outta here," the old woman whispered. "Get outta my store. I don't want to see you back here again."

"As long as you hold your end up, ma'am," Dean smiled as he turned the door knob. "You won't, and I honestly hope you don't see my face again."

Dean stepped out into the sun of early October New Orleans. He was going to have fun here the next couple of weeks. He'd keep an eye on that woman for a while, keeping his promise if anything fishy happened. He just hoped he wouldn't have to find his way back to that little voodoo souvenir stand.

* * *

The next three weeks were a blur of drunken hook ups and all together awesomeness as far as Dean was concerned. He'd gotten close to a girl that went to Tulane and seemed to take quite a shining to the boy from the wrong side of the tracks thing. It was a fun week with her, but the longer it went without hearing anything from his dad, the more worried he became. He called every few days, kept getting his voice mail. Until he woke up one morning, a tall thin brunette pressed against his chest to a voice mail of his own.

"Dean…" he dad's voice came through the line with a lot of static. "Something big is starting to happen… I need to try to figure out what's going on… It may… be careful, Dean. We're all in danger."

"The fuck," Dean though as he played the message again. His dad has really just said he was in danger in a creepy cryptic message, awesome.

"Hey," Dean tapped the girl on the shoulder. "Hey sweetheart, I gotta get up."

"Huh," the girl blinked and looked up at him, smiling. "Oh, yeah, okay. I'll be right here."

Dean got up, grabbing his jeans from the floor and pulling them on as he walked to the bathroom with his phone. He played the message over and over. There was something else on that recording. He was going to have to run it through a gold wave.

"Are you coming back to bed?" the girl asked when Dean made his way back out to the main room.

"Ahh… no," Dean shook his head. Something bad was happening. He had to figure out what. "I… umm… I ahh… gotta go. Something came up with my dad. I gotta go to California. If you wanna take a shower or whatever I gotta pack up and stuff, so you can stay until I leave."

"Alright," the girl said confused.

Dean left the room and went through the trunk of the car to find a tape recorder and his other instruments. He walked back in to the room to the sound of the shower running. He wished he could remember this girl's name. He put his phone on speaker and recorded it to the handheld recorder, listening to it again to try to here through the static.

"Are you sure you have to take off?" The girl said as she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "I mean, check out isn't until noon. We can still have a couple hours of fun."

"I'm sorry babe," Dean replied. "Family emergency."

She looked disappointed as she gathered her clothes and got dressed. She picked up his phone and programed her number into it.

"If you're back around, give me a call," she smiled. "I'd really enjoy another round."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I will."

He watched her ass as she walked out of the room, knowing he'd never call her again.

He kept playing with the voice recording until he could strip away the static and slowed it down. Underneath his father's voice was a woman asking someone to take her home.

* * *

After Dean checked out of the motel he headed to the library and looked up the case his dad was working on, ten dead men on a strip of road in Jericho in the last twenty years. He printed off the missing persons flyers and as much information as he could before heading back to the car.

Something bad was brewing just on the other side of whatever the hell was going on with dad. Something real bad. They were all in danger, _all _of them. When he was four he was given a job to do. He'd been shit at it the last few years, but he'd be damned if he was going to fail at it now. Dean had to do what he did best. Protect the one person he knew how to protect. It was just going to take a little bit, probably a lot, actually, of convincing. He took a deep breath as he sat behind the wheel and though aloud.

"I can try to figure this out myself or I can go get Sammy," he said. "I'll tell him Dad's gone. He'll through a bitch fit and tell me to go away. Or I can do this myself, possibly get myself killed by whatever took dad and Sam will never know."

He nodded to himself as he cranked the engine. "Better to have him kick me out than never even get a chance."

He pointed the car toward California and didn't look back.

He sat across from Sam's apartment after the day and half drive. It looked like Sam was on his way to a Halloween party, the pretty blonde girl he and John had seen through the window the year before dressed as a nurse on his arm as they walked down the street. He'd just have to wait until they got home to stop him. No sense in ruining a night out. It gave Dean a chance to chill, take a little bit of a nap before this journey. When he woke up, he watched the lights in Sam's apartment slowly turn off as Sam and the girl made their way to bed. Time to move.

He climbed up the back stairwell, and found an open window.

"Amateur, Sammy," Dean thought. "Gotta lock out your place or _anyone_ could get in."

He walked over to the kitchen. His big plan was to hope there was beer in the fridge and sit and wait for Sam to wake up for his middle of the night water. But on his way to the kitchen a hand grabbed him, and sent the arm flying backward. He swung with his right arm but his opponent ducked, grabbed his arm and spun him around. Dean blocked a kick as the pair went backward into the kitchen. Dean sends an elbow to the face of his little brother, Sam took a second kick but that too is blocked. Dean got a hold of his brother and dropped him to the ground pinning him one hand on his arm above his head, the other on his throat.

With a huge grin on his face he looks down at his confused little brother.

"Whoa, Easy Tiger."

* * *

_An 2: This is the end. I hope you have enjoyed this. I don't know how to thank those of you who have written reviews and words of encouragement throughout my writing process. I never would have had the courage to keep posting this without all of you. Thank you for making writing this story a wonderful experience for me. If any of you have something that you want me to add to this verse, a scene you wish was in this or whatever, let me know and I will be glad to write it. I have a couple little story ideas lined up. _

**_Thank you all _**_from the bottom of my heart for reading this. I don't think I can put it into words how much it means to me. _


End file.
